


No Time like the Present

by SHARKMARTINI



Series: On the Relativity of Time [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, Clueless Simon, Confused Simon, Developing Relationship, First Time, M/M, Sharing a Bed, SnowBaz, Time Travel, Unrealistic Sex, also how many times can he cry? HINT: it's A LOT, emotional smut, how many times can Baz get off in the shower in one fic? read to find out, no wings or tail, sorry mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-12-07 05:32:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI
Summary: Time-based magic has always been against the law. So it's a good thing the only people who know about this are Penny, Simon, Simon and Baz.





	1. PART 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have some smut. 
> 
> The second chapter is written and will be posted soonish when it’s cleaned up a little. There is some angst, but this is not an angsty story- I’m not here to hurt you. 
> 
> Don't think too hard about a timeline here, I know I didn't.
> 
> Thanks to [aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias), the nicest person on the internet, for helping me make this work, and being so kind and supportive and encouraging while doing it.
> 
> Also, endless thanks to [Krisrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/pseuds/KrisRix) for not only inspiring chapter 2 of this story, but also for the amazing, gorgeous, life changing ( & NSFW) [fanart](https://www.patreon.com/posts/carry-on-no-time-27746623). Thank you so so much, I'm so grateful and it's so beautiful- like it's all I've thought about since I first saw it.

  

"Uh-"

 It's not often I find myself speechless, but it isn't every day I walk into our room and see two Snows sitting across from each other on his bed.

 They're both weirdly in sync, and both of them turn to look at me as I stand in the doorway.

 I'm so shocked it takes me a minute to realize that I'm looking at two _different_ versions of Snow. The more I stare the more this becomes apparent, further made clear by the drastically different looks on their faces.

 The one I recognize as my roommate is scowling at me, the lines of his face familiar. In fact, I'm pretty sure he made the same face at me this morning in Greek when I had mocked his translation homework.

 The other one is familiar, but I don't know his face the same way I'm used to knowing Snow's. Maybe it's the expression on his face, but he looks delighted, like this situation we've found ourselves in is his dream come true. I've seen that look on Snow's face before, but admittedly only directed at food.

 "Baz," the imposter says, and sits up straighter. He looks- fitter? Like the Snow I know only better fed and groomed. Like he's finally learned how to take care of himself properly. He's still smiling. I watch as Snow frowns at himself.

 "Shut up, don't talk to him. He can't help us."

 "Oh relax, it's just Baz."

 "Exactly, it's _Baz._ "

 They frown at each other, Snow looking murderous and the imposter looking faintly amused.

 I decide that I've just about hit my dose of surrealism for the day and decide to ignore- whatever this is.

 I grab my kit and decide to spend as much time away from the room as I can for the next few days.

 "Have a good practice," the imposter says to me on my way out. I glance over at Snow who has his nose buried in an impossibly thick tome. He's scowling worse than ever.

 "Right," I say before I close the door behind me.

 -----

I take my time after practice and decide to use the locker room showers for once. They're gross and I didn't think to bring all my usual things with me, but they are blessedly Snow-free. I haven't stopped thinking about him (them?) since I left the room, and I punish myself by keeping the water cool and forcing myself to ignore the frankly alarming thoughts this whole business has dredged up.

I go to supper and push the food around on my plate and try to ignore Snow across the dining hall. I'm one of the very last to leave but I still make sure I'm not being followed before I duck down to the catacombs.

It's dark by the time I climb the stairs to our room.

I crack the door open carefully, wondering what fresh madness I'm about to run into this time.

The imposter is sitting on my bed, reading my copy of pride and prejudice. This is how I know he's an imposter- Snow barely ever reads anything he isn't assigned to.

"Get off my bed," I snap at him as I come in. I toss my football gear in my hamper to spell clean later.

"I was waiting for you," he says as the day hits peak weirdness.

He holds up a plate of food.

"Sim- I mean I brought this up for- me. But I know how you hate to eat in front of others, so I was thinking we could share."

I just stare at him.

"What do you mean you were thinking? You never think."

He laughs.

"It might be hard for you to believe but I do occasionally have a good idea. You’re welcome though- for thinking of you."

I frown and cross my arms. I try to decide if this is some kind of plan they've come up with to take me down- have me teetering on my last nerve with desperate wish fulfillment and sexual frustration.

"Where is tweedle-dum?" I ask instead, looking around like he might come crawling out from under my desk.

"He went to see Penny about reversing the spell he mucked up earlier. He doesn’t think I should be seen outside this room- even he knows time-based magic is a no-go. The Coven would burn him at the stake for messing with a natural order like time."

“What spell was it?” I ask, curious despite myself.

“ _No time like the present_ ,” he says without magic, and I frown. “Yeah I know, it’s way beyond his skill level, but he was trying to motivate himself to start some essay for political science-”

“That’s due tomorrow. He can’t have left it this late.”

He gives me a look.

“Aleister Crowley, you’re an imbecile.”

He shrugs and just starts eating the roast beef from earlier with obvious enthusiasm. It must be stone cold- dinner was hours ago.

I sneer at him.

"If I'm going to be stuck up here with you you might as well try to act civilized," He looks up at me, cheeks bulging as I pull out my wand.

" **Some like it hot**!"

He takes an enormous swallow.

"Thanks," he says and he's back at it before he can even take a breath. "Do you want some of this?" he offers again.

"I think I'd rather starve, thanks."

I sit down at my desk and watch him out of the corner of my eye. I've never been able to watch my fill of him eating before. Which is probably for the best, I decide as I watch him inhale his food. Honestly it's disgusting, but apparently I am even more disgusting because it does nothing to dim my usual ardor.

He's practically licking the plate clean when I decide that enemy or not, I could probably use some information from him- especially if he's up for sharing.

"You mentioned time magic. Are you trying to tell me you're from another time?"

"Yeah," he says, licking his fork clean. "You guys are what? Seventh year? So that was-," he frowns as he tries counting out on his fingers. "Seven years ago? So I guess I'm from seven years in the future- from your perspective anyway."

There's so much I want to ask him. I start with the most important.

"If you're here that means I obviously didn't manage to kill you properly." He rolls his eyes at me.

"You don't need to worry. I am alive and well.” He hesitates for the barest of seconds, “and so are you, in fact."

I grimace. I'm not sure we should be calling anything I'm doing living. Then I notice what he's said.

"I wasn't worrying, just hoping you'd enlighten me as to whether my grand plan fails or not."

He sighs and looks over at me. "There's no grand plan, we don’t fight. You're such a drama queen."

"Not as far as you know anyway- I could be biding my time."

"Baz, there are a lot of things you want from me, but my untimely death is not one of them."

I frown at him. What a stupid and cryptic thing to say. I think of all the things I want from him and decide immediately that there's no way he could possibly know about any of them. There must be something else. I hate that he knows things that I don't.

"What makes you so sure?"

"You've told me yourself."

"And you think trusting me is a good idea? Better not let you hear yourself say that."

"Baz, you're the only person I trust- well, other than Penny." I avoid his eyes, and stare out the window. What the fuck happened in the future? Where does this version of Snow come from, where he talks to me and trusts me to be honest with him.

"What the fuck happens in the future," I ask, and all of a sudden he's smiling at me, moving off my bed and coming towards me and my heart is about to burst right out of my chest. He's like the sun, and I've never been on the receiving end of that smile before and-

The door slams open and I jump in my seat and he stops awkwardly in the middle of room.

Snow and Bunce are standing in the doorway and we all just pause where we are.

"Penny!" he says, and that smile is back and I'm left irritated that it's not directed at me anymore.

He rushes forwards to hug her and she looks only a little confused as she hugs him back.

"What are you doing here?" Snow asks me, frowning. He's going to get a wrinkle between his brows if he keeps doing that.

"This is my room," I tell him, raising my brows. I know he hates that. Serves him right for interrupting- whatever was happening when he came barging in.

"Leave him alone," future Snow says, finally letting go of Penny. "What have you guys been up to? Did you find anything out?"

Bunce and Snow side-eye me and I sigh. I'm outnumbered.

"I'm going, I'm going," I tell them as I grab my things and head into the washroom. I turn the shower on as hot as it will go and get inside.

This time I don’t censor my thoughts. I don’t even care that they’re all out there, just on the other side of the door. I let myself think of everything I had stopped myself from before. I let my hands roam across my body and lean my head back, imagining two pairs of tawny hands stroking, rubbing. I let myself imagine being caught between two bodies, two mouths.

I enjoy the heat from the shower for a little longer before I get out and get ready for bed.

Bunce is gone when I get back into our room. The space between our beds is filled with blankets and pillows.

"Isn't there anywhere else you can sleep, Snow?" I snap at future Snow , who is already stretched out on the floor.

"Simon," He says eyes flicking up to me from my book he's still reading. I know how tired I must be when I imagine his lingering gaze on the exposed bit of my collarbone.

I step over him and get into bed. This is awful. Usually I’m up late watching him sleep- It’s hard to do anything but watch him at night, less than four feet away. Now not only are there two of him, but I’m practically sleeping on top of one.

One that has been surprisingly civil to me.

I hear Snow get into his bed and click off the light. I stare at the ceiling and wait for the sound of his rhythmic breathing. If they’re the same person they’re going to fall asleep at the same time- right?

I wait as long as I can stand, counting the time between Snow’s snores. I can sense the slow, steady pulse of blood in both of them. I try not to think about it.

As slowly as I can manage I turn to my side and open my eyes.

My undead heart pounds as I catch Simon’s eye. He shouldn’t be able to see me in the dark, but he’s so close that-

He smiles at me and moves even closer to the side of my bed. Slowly he reaches out to where my hand is tangled in one of my many blankets, knuckles white. I flinch my hand away at the last second and curse myself for being such a spaz. He pauses, then rubs the lump of my arm over the blanket softly before settling back down.

He doesn’t stop looking at me, even when I try to control my breathing by staring at the ceiling instead.

\-----

“Have fun in class!” he tells me the next morning as I leave the room to go down to breakfast.

So fucking weird.

The day is exhausting, if only because I can’t keep myself disciplined long enough to pay attention. Instead I spend the day idly wondering what my relationship with Simon is like in the future. He seems to trust me, for whatever unknown reason. Does that mean we’re friends?

I go up to our room to drop my things off before dinner.

“He went down to wait by the catacombs,” Simon tells me before I even make it all the way inside. “He thinks that with two of us it’ll be easier to catch you feeding.”

“What?” I stop dead in my tracks.

“I’m supposed to signal to him from the window when you leave the room so he can go hide and get a head start on you.”

“What a stupid plan.” It’s the first thing that comes to my mind.

“Yeah, but I know you don’t like surprises, so I figured I’d let you know. You could always try the wavering wood during dinner? He’ll be too busy waiting in the catacombs for you- you might actually get some peace while feeding for once.”

I take the time to actually think about it. “That would be a good idea. If I was a vampire I’d do that for sure.”

He rolls his eyes at me, “Baz, you are a vampire.”

“So you’ve been telling me for years,” I shrug and immediately hate myself. I’ve been spending too much time around him.

“You don’t need to pretend, I know,” he hesitates before adding quickly, “I’ve seen your fangs and everything.”

“You’ve seen my fangs?” I’m so surprised that I forget to be nonchalant. I hope he’s telling the truth, otherwise this will be hard to come back from.

“They’re wicked,” he says earnestly, and I roll my eyes at his enthusiasm, “actually we’ve been-”

He cuts himself off suddenly and coughs. I’m immediately suspicious.

“What have you been doing? And who exactly is ‘we’?” He rubs the back of his neck and avoids eye contact.

“Look, you should go feed before he gets impatient and comes looking for you. If you go before dinner, you’ll make it back before they pull up the drawbridge.”

“Right.” I side eye him as he goes back to eating my secret bag of salt and vinegar crisps. “I’m going to go down to dinner- to eat normal food. Don’t touch my things!” I snap at him before leaving the room and heading down the stairs.

Even though it doesn’t make sense I make myself wait a few minutes before heading off to the Wavering Wood, looking over my shoulder the whole time.

\-----

I come back to the room after tea a few days later to find Simon enthusiastically inhaling a plate of his beloved scones. I wrinkle my nose as I notice the crumbs he’s spreading across my bed. He’s become entirely too comfortable sitting on my bed, looking through my things.

He’s got an entire stick of butter on his plate, and watching him try to spread it on the cold scones makes my heart hurt. He’s an imbecile.

“ **You’re getting warmer**!”

He smiles at me in thanks, crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth. I don’t much care for scones- but I’d kill to lick the crumbs from his mouth.

I need help.

"I don’t understand why you don’t just spell it yourself,” I snap at him instead. “You’re always leaking magic anyway- might as well try to put some of it to actual use rather than just blowing shit up all the time.”

He’s uncharacteristically silent, and when I look over at him he looks like I’ve punched him in the gut.

“I don’t- I don’t have magic anymore,” he says haltingly, abandoning the scones.

“What?” I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but this probably somewhere near the very bottom.

“I don’t have it anymore. It was never mine.” He sighs and runs his hands through his curls. I’m immediately disturbed at how attractive I find him in his distress.

“D’you- do you want to talk about it?” I cringe at myself. I’m such a fucking moron. He waves me off.

“No, no. We’ll talk about it a lot in the future, I don’t want to make you suffer through that now too.” I want to be there for him but he’s not even looking at me. I hope future me is more tactful than I am now. I should let it go, but-

“We do?” I ask, and sit down on my bed, facing him. He grimaces a little and shrugs in a way I’ve come to notice he does when he thinks he’s given too much away.

“So, in the future- how often do we see each other? In what contexts?” I lick my lips. I’ve been dying to know this since he first mentioned me.

“You know I’m not going to answer that.” He frowns deeply, and I want to lick the wrinkle between his eyebrows. I decide that I’m going to make it happen before I die.

“I’m just curious. It won’t change anything. Like do we work together? Or are we neighbours? Do we end up married to a pair of Siamese twin sisters and forced to spend time together as part of the world’s freakiest foursome?”

He breaks a little at that and I relish the quick flash of a smile that travels across his face. Then he frowns and looks up at me.

“Baz, you’re gay.”

“How dare you,” I tell him seriously.

“You wanker,” He leans over and pushes me, but he’s laughing now. I laugh with him as I let myself fall over and curl up on my side to look at him.

He’s grinning and trying very hard not to look at me. This might be the best moment of my life. In our room, laughing together. We’ve never laughed together before. It feels- nice. Like we’re in on the same joke rather than one of us being the punchline.

I make sure I’m not smiling at him by the time he looks up, because I don’t want him to read it on my face.

The look he gives me takes my breath away.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him. Because I’m weak. Because I love him. Because he’s sitting on his bed right in front of me, looking at me like I’ve punched him in the gut.

He’s silent for so long I think he’s pretending not to have heard me. Then-

“You have no idea how much I wish you were here right now,” he says as he gets up and walks into the washroom, closing the door behind him and locking it.

“But I’m right here,” I say to the empty room around me.

\-----

I stay awake and watch him sleep.

By the time he came out of the washroom, Snow was back from dinner getting ready for bed.

We _have_ to be together in the future. We must. There’s no other explanation for why he would want me to be here with him. Why he keeps being so nice to me.

My heart pounds and I try to calm my breathing.

_We’re together, me and Simon._

I mean, he hasn’t actually said it. But it has to be true.

 I might die if it wasn’t.

 -----

“Sorry about last night,” Simon says as we’re sitting in silence, him drawing something in one of my notebooks and me trying to act like I’m not watching him over the top of my homework.

 _Simon, my- boyfriend? Lover?_ I haven’t been able to think about anything else all day. This essay is going to be a complete write-off.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” I tell him seriously.

“I do though,” he continues, running his hands through his curls. Crowley, I wonder how long I have to wait to be able to do that myself. I should tell him I already know, then I bet he won’t make me wait at all.

Would he let me kiss him?

What a stupid question. Obviously. We’re together in the future- maybe he’d even kiss me first.

He turns around to face me, and I put my papers down to show him that I’m giving him my full attention.

I’m so far gone.

“I just feel- I’ve been here longer than I thought I would. I’m just missing home, and the people there. You. My friends. My partner. But I shouldn’t be- I mean I don’t want you to read into anything that’s not there- or think the future might be something it’s not. I’m just kind of a mess right now.” He gives me a sheepish grin.

It takes me a second to catch up.

“What are you trying-?” I trail off.

He’s trying to backtrack. But, why?

What does it matter if I know we’re together in the future?

Except, if I’m honest with myself I don’t actually know that.

I know that he wishes future me was here with him last night, while we were having a laugh. I know we talk sometimes in the future, about real things- serious things- like his loss of magic.

I know that he just referred to me as separate from his friends. Separate from his partner.

And yesterday, right before the best moment of my life-

‘Baz, you’re gay.’

Not ‘we’re gay’.

Just me.

“Fuck,” I exhale.

He’s watching me closely, and suddenly I’m finding it very hard to breathe.

“I need to-,” I gesture vaguely towards the window.

I’m out the door before I know whether he tells me to come back.

\-----

I’m the biggest idiot on the planet.

I come to this conclusion hours later, lying in the darkness of the catacombs.

Love has made me an idiot.

Of course Simon doesn’t love me, how could he? I’ve been nothing but terrible to him our whole lives. He probably only talks to me in the future because he’s forced to live life as a normal, and I’m the only magical person weak enough to fraternize with a normal. He’s probably using me like some crutch to the magical world just as I’m sure I’m using our acquaintanceship as a crutch for my undying love for him.

It’s pathetic to think that I’m still obsessed with him in the future. At least I can try to take comfort in my constancy. No matter how things change in the future I will still be there, undead and creepily obsessed with Simon Snow.

It’s fucking poetic.

And with that thought, I finally let myself cry.

\-----

I hear the footsteps before he knows I’m there. I decide to stay where I am, facedown in the dirt.

This is my life now.

“What are you doing down here?” Snow asks, brushing cobwebs from his uniform.

“Draining rats and wallowing in blood- the usual vampire type things. What do you think I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re crying, actually.”

Aleister Crowley, I hate him so much. There is no one on Earth capable of hating Snow the way I do. It’s just piss-rotten luck that no one on Earth loves him the way I do either.

“Wait, did you just admit to being a vampire? Was that a joke?”

“What the fuck do you want?” I raise my head just enough to glare at him. The effect’s probably ruined by the muddy streaks I know crying has left all over my face. I don’t even dare to think about what my hair looks like.

He shuffles from foot to foot.

“He’s pouting up there. Don’t really know why, but when you didn’t come back after practice I assumed you’d had a row or something.”

Fuck, I forgot all about practice.

“Congratulations, Sherlock, you’ve cracked the case,” I tell him seriously and he kicks the ground in frustration.

He yelps when I start coughing at the dirt he’s very literally kicked into my face. “Sorry, sorry!”

I finally sit up.

“I hate him,” he tells me seriously and quietly, like it’s a big secret. “There’s something not right about him.”

“You mean other than the fact that he’s _you_?” It speaks to the strength of Snow’s frustration that he just lets that one slide. He must be absolutely desperate to confide in someone if he’s turned to me.

“What did you row about?”

“It’s none of your business.” He makes an angry sound that vaguely makes me think of a squirrel. An inflammably handsome squirrel.

“This is important! We should be working together to get rid of him! You know- like they always say…” He trails off and gives me what I think is supposed to be a _meaningful_ look. It makes him look slightly constipated.

“Like who says, Snow?

“You know- the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“So we’re friends now?”

“No! I mean- not literally. But he’s annoying and self-righteous and constantly criticizing me. I want him gone, and no one hates me as much as you do. I figure it’s in your best interest to get rid of him too.”

I raise my brows at him.

“A surprisingly sound deduction, Snow.” It is. I’m surprised at him.

I finally stand up and brush myself off.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell him seriously.

“Okay, let me know. I’ll be up late in the library with Pen- we found a couple of curses that might work but she’s adamant that we find something less harmful to get rid of him.”

“Probably for the best, you do realize that right? If you curse your future self, won’t you just be guaranteeing suffering for yourself when the time comes?”

He shrugs.

“I’m getting impatient. Who knows what kind of damage he can do while he’s here?”

“While I see where you’re coming from he’s literally locked in a tower. I doubt he’s got the means to wreak havoc from there.”

Snow manages to look smug as he eyes me up and down.

“Managed a number on you though, didn’t he?”

My jaw clenches before I force myself to relax. There can be no good that comes from a vampire grinding his teeth.

He gives me one last pointed look before he turns around, heading back down the tunnels the way he came.

\-----

I finally go ahead once Snow’s gone. Then because I’m determined to avoid the room for as long as I can, I go and shower in the locker room.

Then I go to the library.

Just like he said, Snow and Bunce are tucked away in a corner, a pile of books in front of them. Snow startles as I come up behind him and pick one up from the pile.

 _The Book of the Law._ Huh. We have this back in our library at home.

I toss it back down on the table.

“Baz is going to help us get rid of other Simon,” Snow explains to Bunce.

She frowns.

“Why? Simon says you guys have been getting on.”

“Penny!” Snow whines. I shrug.

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like my side of the room back.” She squints at me, but doesn’t say anything else.

Honestly, I like Simon more than I like my current roommate. He’s easier to live with when he’s not always trying to figure out where I’m going. Or watching me suspiciously.

But I love Snow. And maybe if I play nice he’ll- what exactly?

_Learn to love me back?_

I’m insane. But when he pulls out the seat next to him and gestures for me to sit I feel like it’s all worth it.

\-----

It’s easier than I’d like getting used to being near Snow and Bunce. Being friendly even.

Bunce on a mission is a fearsome thing to behold, and Snow is much more motivated than I’ve ever seen him.

“He’s always eating in my bed, and keeps leaving crumbs on my pillows. It makes me hungry at night,” he tells me as we flip through books. “He keeps telling me to be nicer to you. He thinks we should get along,” he rolls his eyes like the idea is inconceivable. “He thinks Penny and I are keeping you up too late- I think he’s obsessed with you,” he tells me and my undead heart thumps erratically.

“I think I have a new nemesis,” he tells me one afternoon, dropping into the seat across from me at tea time. “If you’re not careful you’re gonna have to get a new title.”

I thank every deity I can think of while he butters and eats an entire plate of scones.

“I’m glad we’re on the same side for once,” he says, touching my wrist as we climb the staircase in Mummer’s. “Penny doesn’t get it- she thinks I’m being dramatic. It’s nice to know there’s someone who gets it. It’s good to know you hate him as much as I do.”

He leaves me where I stand, stunned on the stairs. When I finally make it the rest of the way up he’s already fighting with himself.

He sighs and gives me a conspiratorial look when his future self finally gives in and heads to the ensuite to give him some space.

“Lately, you’re the only person who really gets me,” he says, crawling into his bed, and the swooping in my stomach is almost enough to assuage me of my lingering sense of guilt.

Almost.

\-----

“Where have you been going?” Simon asks as he stretches out on my bed. His jumper rides up and I stare at myself in the mirror where I’m fixing my hair so my gaze doesn’t linger. Just because I’m pretending to hate him for Snow’s sake doesn’t mean he isn’t fit. “It’s been lonely here in the evenings,” he adds, digging under my bed for my packages of crisps.

He really shouldn’t be going under there. But I trust Simon not to snoop more than I do the younger version.

“Some of us have schoolwork to catch up on,” I tell him as I grab my bag.

“Don’t you usually do that here?”

“Yes, but I find my current roommate to be terribly distracting.”

He smiles at me, but doesn’t say anything else. I wonder if he knows we’re flirting.

Or at least I am.

He hasn’t said anything since that afternoon though. Nothing that wouldn’t come from a sensible, concerned roommate. Although according to Snow all he ever does is ask about me when I’m not around. But Snow’s been more paranoid than usual, so anything he says can’t exactly be taken at face value.

Just the other night he’d sworn that Simon had fist fought him over a mint Aero bar. In fact, he’d nudged him aside to get at the one Snow keeps lodged under the edge of his mattress. But the pleased look on his face when I’d assured him that he’d never been treated more unfairly had been worth the lie.

Now that he brings it up, I do feel guilty leaving Simon on his own. But I have more important things to focus on. Like how last night I had been poring over _Fables, Fairytales, and Folklore_ until Snow had pulled my hands towards him so he could read over my shoulder. And when he’d yawned he let his forehead rest on my shoulder, for just a moment.

My jumper still smelled like smoke this morning when I finally took it off.

I still haven’t decided if I’m ever going to spell it clean again.

I’m late to the library because my hair refuses to cooperate and I’m forced to stop by the communal loo to fix it. I could spell it, but I refuse to indulge in that particular vanity. My natural beauty doesn’t need magical enhancement.

I wind through the shelves to our usual spot until-

“- we need to translate this. But if it means what I think it means- we should tell Baz,” Bunce is whispering.

“No!” Snow interrupts and I pause where I am, hidden in the stacks. “I don’t trust him. I don’t know what he’s plotting but-”

“He’s not plotting anything! He’s been helping us all week-”

“Yeah, he’s been ‘ _helping’_ us. But he hasn’t found anything useful.”

“Until now neither have _we,_ ”

“Look, I talked to future Simon earlier. He was going off about something dumb- but apparently he’s been asking Baz what he’s been up to and Baz has been lying to him-”

“Well that’s not so weird. You say they get along, but maybe they don’t-”

“That’s not it! Other Simon wants to help. He’s always talking about getting back. He says Baz hasn’t said anything to him about what we’ve been researching.”

“I told Baz just the other day to ask other Simon about how he lost his magic- Baz said Simon hadn’t wanted to talk about it.”

“Yeah, well according to other Simon, Baz _never even brought it up._ And all those things I found about summoning spells- Baz said he’d follow up on them. Yesterday morning he told me it was a dead end, that the only copy of _Summoning demons: An Interactive Guide_ was missing from the library-”

“But-”

“Penny, I found this under his bed.”

_Shit._

“Simon! That’s a violation of his privacy-”

“That’s not important! It was under his bed. And I asked the librarian- no one checked it out. He just took it, probably so he could hide it-”

“We don’t know that-”

“How much more obvious do you need it to be? Baz isn’t on our side here. He’s sabotaging us, all of us.”

I leave before I can finish hearing the rest.

\-----

So, I concede that I might be a little guilty of stretching the whole thing out.

At first it was because I was attached to the idea of having a version of Snow around that didn’t despise me on sight. But then it was because of what it meant for me- an opportunity to be closer to Snow.

Since we’ve been working together to get rid of his future self, Snow hasn’t accused me of plotting. As much. He’s started sitting with me at tea. It’s just nice to be- close.

Or at least not enemies.

If we’d sent Simon back, well- that would fuck up the whole thing now, wouldn’t it?

At least I’ve had reason to sit next to him in the evenings, even if we are engrossed in our own books. Something to talk to him about. Something I can try to pretend is more than just a tentative truce between us.

And I’m not ready to give it up, not yet.

But it was too much to hope for.

When I get back to the room Simon is sitting at my desk, reading notes I recognize as Snow’s questions and annotations about summoning demons.

I guess my luck has finally run out.

He looks at me as I come in and then he clenches his jaw, narrowing his eyes at me. Crowley, I love this expression. My body is practically singing, wondering if he’s going to try and hit me.

I wonder if the anathema would recognize him as my roommate?

“You’ve been lying to me.”

“Yes,” I agree, setting my unopened bag down and slipping off my oxfords.

No sense in lying if he and Snow have already figured it out.

“God, you’re still so- fuck. Fuck. Why can’t you give me a break _just once._ Maybe not be such a pain in my arse for a moment of your life.”

“You’re a lot less nice now that you’ve figured out I’m not yours to command.”

“I haven’t been _commanding_ anything!”

“You- _him._ It doesn’t matter. All you’ve ever done is treat me like shit. The only reason you’ve been nice to me recently is because you’ve been trying to manipulate me into helping you.”

“That’s not true- and you’ve been sabotaging us. Why didn’t you just come talk to me if you didn’t want to help us out?”

I laugh humourlessly.

“Yeah, sure. Now you wish we’d talk more.”

He rolls his eyes at me, and all it does is make me angrier. I’ve never known Snow to do that. He must have learned sometime in the future.

“You might find it hard to believe, but I actually like talking to you- full stop.”

“Of course, just as long as you’re getting something you want from it.” He flinches a little, but he still meets my eyes.

“Come off it, don’t talk crazy.”

“Is it so crazy to wish that you’d want to talk to me other than when you want something,” it comes out softer than I’d intended, but I wait to see him hear it.

He has the decency to look ashamed. He holds his hands up in surrender.

“Look- I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean anything, with how I- we’ve- been acting. But if you’d just be honest with me and talk to me-”

I shake my head, already heading out the door.

“All I’ve ever wanted is just to talk to you. To be near you. It’s never done me any good.”

And I’m down the stairs and out towards the pitch.

\-----

I wish I hadn’t stormed off dramatically.

There’s very little do around here once I’ve fed and sulked.

When I get back to our room he's sitting on my bed, head in his hands.

The way he looks at me when I walk in is enough to have the sneer slip right off my face. I have never seen Simon Snow look at me that way ever.

He looks at me for a long time.

"Come here," he says finally, opening up his arms.

"I don't need your permission to sit on my _own bed_ ," I hear myself say, and I flinch.

I go to him anyway.

I'm still taller than him, but it doesn't seem to faze him, and in a smooth motion he's reached out and pulled me into his chest, and let himself tip sideways so we are lying face to face in my bed, arms and legs tangled.

I think I stop breathing.

"I’m tired of fighting. Just- let me have this," he whispers against my neck, and my eyes close as I feel the words against my skin.

I almost ask him what _this_ is, but then…

He is kissing me. We are kissing each other.

I have no idea what I'm doing.

He has one hand on the back of my neck, tangled in my hair. It feels amazing.

"Baz," he whispers, pulling away and dragging his mouth against my jaw.

I can't stop myself from reaching out and pulling his mouth back to mine.

This is every single one of my fantasies come to life. I'll be damned if I don't take as much advantage of this fact as I can. I roll over and tug him on top of me, sighing into the kiss as the weight of him presses me down. I have no idea what I’m doing, just vague notions of _good,_ and _yes,_ and _want-_ but I trust him to take it from here.

Soon the press of our mouths isn't enough and we pull away from each other, panting.

“I want to-” I manage to say, just as he says, “we shouldn’t-”

We both stop immediately.

“I just meant that-” he starts, and I wave him off. I don’t want to hear about his girlfriend or _partner_ he’s got in the future. Whatever he’s feeling guilty about. Aleister Crowley, what if he has a _spouse_? (I would guess wife, since Snow is painfully straight, but his word _partner_ keeps fucking me up. What does that even mean? Like a business partner, or is Simon trying to gently come out to me and I’m so dense I didn’t properly pick up on it). I’m frozen in terror before I remember that I’m apparently alive and well in the future. If this is true and he isn’t lying to me, then he obviously can’t be married because I would have set myself on fire if it came to that.

“Don’t,” he says, grabbing my chin and kissing me again. “Don’t make that face, just stop thinking about whatever it is.”

He presses me back into the mattress, arms caging me in as he twists his tongue around mine.

“You’re doing a really good job of advancing your cause,” I tell him as he finally lets me go to breathe, and immediately starts working his way down my neck.

I feel him laugh before I hear it.

“I know. But fuck, Baz. We can't-."

"Can't? Or shouldn't?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” He grunts a little as I press against him, and I smile in satisfaction.

"I want to,” I whisper in his ear, like it’s a secret.

"I know-”

"I want it to be with you-,” The violent fricative he makes is worth the embarrassment of the confession.

"You can't- you can't just say things like that-” he says, and then ruins the integrity of this statement by pressing against me harder than ever. I can feel him through his trousers, hard and wanting. I move my hands down to his waistband and let my thumbs graze the skin of his lower back.

"It's all true,” I lean up and whisper against his lips, “I've wanted you for such a long time-”

The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m shoved back down to the mattress, Simon’s hand spread out on my sternum. The other is tugging desperately at his shirt, fumbling as he drags it over his head and tosses it to the floor.

“We’re going to do this,” he growls at me, and I try hard not to preen.

“Yes, please,” I say and start trying to remove my uniform

“No,” he says, grabbing my wrist, “let me-”

It’s the sweetest kind of torture. Simon undresses me so slowly I’m convinced I’m going to die of anticipation. His mouth follows his hands as his tongue lavishes every exposed bit of skin.

By the time he works my trousers off all I notice is the litany of ‘please, please, please’ repeating in my mind.

When he mouths against my bulge through my pants I actually need to remind myself to breathe. Then he does it again, and again, before tonguing the tip through the fabric. I’m leaking, the front of my pants wet with my own excitement. I’m embarrassed at my own enthusiasm until he begins sucking at the fabric and I lose my mind instead.

“Simon, you need to get on with it, or this is going to end before it’s even started.”

I mourn the loss of his mouth as he looks up at me and laughs.

“You’re so easy to wind up,” he says not unkindly as I take deep breaths and ignore the urge to raise my hips to rub against him.

He rolls sideways off the bed and onto the floor before sliding his hands under my bed.

“Wait!” I start panicking as he drags out the little black box I keep under there.

“Relax,” he tells me, popping the lid and rifling through it.

Crowley, I wish I hadn’t fed so much. I can feel my cheeks flushing at the sight of his hand rummaging through my collection of sex toys and accessories. My shame burns in the pit of my stomach, heavy and unwelcome.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, grabbing the box and getting back on the bed with me. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s fine, it’s normal.”

I try to calm down, but a quick look confirms that his hand is currently resting on my dildo- and I make a sound that somehow perfectly captures my desire to simply will myself out of existence.

He follows my eyes and chuckles.

“It’s tempting, but there’s other things I want to do to you instead.”

He grabs my bottle of warming lubricant then hesitates over the sealed box of rubbers. The shrink wrap is still on the box for Crowley’s sake, it might as well have a neon sticker screaming ‘VIRGIN!’ for him to see.

“There’s a spell-,” he starts haltingly.

“Oh?” I say, right before I get it. _Oh._

I lean over and grab my wand. I do happen to know it.

**“Better safe than sorry!”**

The rest of my black box gets tossed to the floor.

“Can I take these off?”  He asks, toying with the edge of my pants. This is it. This is really happening.

My throat is too dry, so I nod. Probably too quickly but he doesn’t comment. I close my eyes.

I keep my breathing steady as I feel Snow’s hands against my skin. It’s excruciating. I wish I weren’t the only one naked. I hear him let out a breath.

“Fuck, Baz-”

The long, slow lick from root to tip surprises me. I fist my hands in the sheets and whine as he uses his hands to spread my legs, and does it again.

Then I hear him rustling and feel him shift on the bed- before I feel the pressure of a slick finger lightly pressing against my hole. I suck in a breath and try to relax. More shifting, and Simon’s tongue is back, teasing the head of my cock as he advances his finger, and all I feel is pressure-

I gasp and tense as I feel the pressure give, then the smooth slide of Simon’s finger as it breaches me. I’m still getting used to the feeling when he takes me down his throat, right to the base. I slide my hands into his hair and push up into his mouth, then down onto his finger. Fingers. I’m panting, breathless and caught between wanting more, and feeling too much when everything stops.

I open my eyes.

He sits back on his haunches and just stares. I’m feeling too exposed, and I’m tempted to just curl in on myself- but I settle for raising an eyebrow at him. He just shakes his head.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"I’m already naked, you don’t need to use some generic line-,"

"Baz, you know I’m not."

I need to keep it together before I burst into tears or something.

He leans over me slowly, gathering my hands and pressing them into the mattress above our heads. I spread my legs a little, making space for him between them.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, like we haven’t spent all this time building up to it.

“Yes,” I breathe back. I want it, but I’m nervous. I trust Simon to take care of me though.

The hand on my wrists pushes them deeper into the mattress as Simon shifts his weight above me, and then I'm keening as he pushes inside in one smooth stroke.

My eyes are wide, and my body pushes against his as I go completely taut. The hand that isn't holding down my wrists rubs my hip soothingly as Simon shushes me, mouth making its way up my neck before finally finding mine again. It's- surprising? It doesn't hurt, but it's not comfortable- and I take a deep breath and fight my own body's instinct to pull away-

"How are you, love?" he murmurs against my lips and I push up into him, delirious. I have only the faintest idea of what is going on. He's above me, inside me, everything is Simon Snow and I can barely stand it. I try to wriggle against the sheets but the press of his hand and body keeps me in place.

"It's good-," I pant, and he laughs, nosing at my jaw.

"You liar. It'll get better, I'm going to make you feel so good."

"Hurry up then,"

He starts pulling back and I whine, locking my ankles across the small of his back. He groans.

"Enough of that, let me-," he fumbles around for a second before lifting one of my legs and draping it over his shoulder.

I huff a little in annoyance.

"Are you going to start shagging me anytime soon, or-?"

And then he pushes back in and I lose my breath.

I don’t catch it for several beats, instead panting and writhing against the sheets as he starts thrusting. Crowley, oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"There you go, you little brat. You're welcome." He looks down at me and grins at whatever expression he finds on my face. I feel my fangs start to pop, and I tug against his hand.

“My fangs-,” It feels momentous, a confession with the worst possible timing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he shushes me, sliding his hand up, and I grip it in both of mine. “I’ve got you.”

My heart swells. He knows. He knows the very worst thing about me, and it’s okay. He’s still here, pressed against me, inside me. And with that, I finally let myself go and give in completely.

"Touch me!" I whine, trying to rub my aching cock against him. I need more- just something _more_.

"Darling, I'm not done fucking you just yet,"

The sound I make is an ugly broken thing as I melt into him. My undead heart flutters traitorously as I surrender to the pounding of his hips against mine.

The sounds I'm making are ridiculous. Everything we're doing is ridiculous. I thrash around under him as he moves his weight over me, keeping me pinned to the bed. It's good, so good. I had no idea. I thought it would be good because he wanted it and I wanted him, but this is on another level.

"Jesus, fuck, Baz. You feel so good," he pants above me, sliding his free hand between the sheets and the small of my back, and I immediately arch up into him, pushing every part of myself closer to him.  

He hisses, and licks up the side of my neck and- wow okay, that _does things_ to me.

I moan pitifully as I feel him push deep as he can, and I focus so hard on trying to feel him come inside that I miss the look on his face completely. He's still panting, mouth open but it doesn't stop him from pressing his face as close to mine as he can, as we share the same breath.

After that, it doesn't take much. Three, four slick pulls of his calloused fist around my cock and I'm coming between us, the weight of his body pressing me down as I thrash and moan under his hands.

Great snakes.

We lay there together as the rush of blood in both of us starts to calm, and finally I feel my fangs retract. He lifts his head from my shoulder and checks discreetly, I consider saying something to him, but then he is kissing me again, slow and soft, and I forget everything but the press of his lips against mine, the sweet slide of his tongue.

Then Simon pulls back and tucks his head into the space between my chin and chest and all of a sudden, I know I'm about to cry. He must hear the tell-tale hitch of my breath because he pulls back to look up at me.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, thumbing away a lone tear.

"No," I whisper. I don't want him to regret what just happened. I have no idea how to explain the ache I have in what feels like my very soul. Although I know that’s not it- I don't have a soul.

"It’s a terrible idea to tell you this," he starts, eyes still searching my face, "but I love you."

"You don't need to say it just because-," _because we shagged. Because I just lost my virginity to you. Because I've been desperately in love with you for what feels like forever_.

"I'm not. I'm saying it because it's true, and I want you to know it. I'm in love with you."

And he leans up to seal it with a kiss.

My heart is so full. I don’t want to give him up.

I can’t have my Snow, but maybe I can have this.

I pull one of his hands to my chest and hold it over my undead heart. I kiss him back with the entire intensity of my feelings and hope that he understands.

Pulling away from him is something I already know I will look back on with regret for the rest of my life.

"He'll be back soon," I say.

"I don't care, I want to be near you."

In the end we compromise, and he slides off my bed to the tangle of blankets and pillows he’s left on the floor. But when we finally give in and fall asleep, we do it while holding hands.

\-----

The next morning I'm awoken to the pair of them arguing again.

Doesn't matter that they still don't give a shit about waking me up. For once I'm glad to be up.

I practically skip to the washroom.

I check myself out in the mirror. I don't look any different. No one would be able to tell just by looking at me that I spent the best night of my life being shagged by my life long enemy. My long-time infatuation.

I get in the shower and wrench the faucet as hot as it will go.

I'm going to enjoy myself this morning.

I don't waste any time before I'm thinking about Simon's hands on me last night. Holding my wrists above my head, running along my hip bone. I clench my arse, feel the muscles ache and I shiver despite the heat of the water.

Simon Snow was inside me last night. He kissed me and held me and made me come apart under his hands.

I’m living a charmed life.

The shower door slides open and I jump in surprise.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Simon says, brushing the wet hair from the back of my neck and kissing my nape. I brace myself against the tile wall- swooning is a real possibility right about now. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Thoroughly shagged,” I gasp out as he fits himself right up against me.

“You’ve gotten started without me,” he notices, his hand joining mine on my cock.

I lean my head back to rest it on his shoulder, but he’s still shorter than me, and it’s not as comfortable as I was hoping.

It’s not a problem for long- soon he’s worked up a firm, gentle rhythm, his other hand rolling my bollocks in his palm- and I can’t focus on anything else. I decide this is how I want to die. When I start to moan in earnest he turns me around and drops to his knees.

I stare down at him.

He looks up and smiles, and I tell myself to make sure I remember this moment for the rest of my ambiguously long life.

The first slow lick has my knees buckling, and distantly I feel my head slam back against the wet tiles. Then he winds one arm around my leg, massaging my calf, and uses the other one to guide me closer by the small of my back.

I almost sob when he takes me completely into his mouth. His tongue is magnificent. What starts as a slow chaste tease becomes downright filthy, and I wind my hands into his curls.

“Oh. Oh, Simon.”

The hand at the small of my back slides down to my arse and squeezes. I push further into his mouth and groan as he swallows around me. I have spent more hours than I can count in this very shower, imagining what it would feel like to have him on his knees for me.

It’s better than anything I could have ever imagined. I’m torn between trying to savour every moment and letting myself get lost in the feel of him. He makes the choice for me, and takes me down until his nose presses right up against my pelvis. I try to be conscientious but my hips are overeager, and I can do nothing but grunt and fuck his mouth as I ratchet closer and closer to orgasm.

“Simon-”

I let my hands go loose in his curls, but he pulls me closer still. I try to keep my eyes open to watch him, but I’m helpless against overwhelming sensation, finally letting my head fall back as I give in and fist my hands in his hair once again, tugging surprisingly aggressively as I come down his throat.

I haven’t yet caught my breath when he suddenly gets up and turns me around, and I brace myself against the tiles. I’m still a little sore from last night, but that’s okay. I want him, I love him.

I feel him rub the head of his cock against my cleft and it feels astonishingly good. Maybe if he’s gentle…

“Pull your legs together, love” he whispers against the side of my neck.

I feel him pull away for a second and hear the snap of a bottle. I’m about to turn around to watch when-

He’s pressed right up against my back, and he’s pushing his cock between my thighs. I gasp as I feel him slide against my bollocks. What even is this? How does he know how to do this?

It doesn’t take long until I’m pressing back against him.

“Your refractory period is a crime,” he laughs into my shoulder, and I whine as I feel him reach around and tug my cock. “D’you think you can come again for me?”

I’m panting too hard to say anything, not that anything I could verbalize would be coherent anyway. I nod wildly and clench my thighs around him.

He groans and leans into me, one hand joining mine on the tile wall of the shower, the other jerking me off rough and slow.

He pants against the back of my neck, and I thrust my hips, caught between the smooth slide of his cock and the relentless pull of his fist. It’s torture-I feel like I’m about the crawl right out of my skin.

It’s glorious.

“Baz,” he whispers in my ear, and I know I’m about to lose it. Again.

Fuck.

“Simon,” I moan as he laces our fingers together against the slick tiles and huffs against my skin.

I finally give in to the overwhelming rush of pleasure, losing everything except for the steady pounding of his heart against my back.

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Love you,” he grits out, head dropping to my shoulder as he shudders against me.

We breathe heavily, clinging to each other until the water around us starts to run cold.

\-----

I seriously consider dragging Simon back to bed and just staying there. I could tell him my arse just isn’t up to sitting in class all day. It’s not a complete lie, I’m a little sore.

But in the end my misplaced sense of obligation sends me out of the tower and to class.

I’m on my way back to the room at the end of the afternoon when I hear it.

"Baz!" I immediately begin walking faster. I’ve been avoiding this particular confrontation.

"Baz! I'm trying to talk to you, you git!" For someone so small she's surprisingly quick. I try to decide if it would be completely ridiculous to break out into a run. I could beat her to Mummers and lock myself in the washroom.

"Bunce," I say instead, standing my ground and letting her catch up.

"Wow, rude. I know you were on the verge of running away from me."

"What do you want, Bunce?"

"Look, I don't want to pry,”

"So don't."

"Will you just listen, you ungrateful prick.” I frown at her but let her continue. "Like I was saying, I don't want to pry and I have no idea what's been going on with you- but Simon and I think we've found a way to send Future Simon back. We're going to sneak out into the Wavering Wood and try tonight."

"And why do you think I care about what the golden duo have planned?"

"Because I'm not blind, or an idiot. I don't think Simon knows what's going on but I'm not stupid enough to think that it's nothing." I grit my teeth and avoid her gaze. I don’t need Bunce’s fucking _pity._ She doesn’t know anything about me, or what I feel.

"Look, we don't get along, and I don't particularly like you- but I thought you should know. Just in case."

I don’t bother saying anything else, I just turn on my heel and head towards Mummers.

For the first time in weeks he isn’t there.

\-----

I wait until dusk, then I sneak out across the drawbridge and out into the forest.

I wish I had thought to ask Bunce where they were would be, exactly. The forest is enormous, and I don’t fancy the idea of wandering around and possibly missing him.

“ **Come out, come out, wherever you are!”**

It should work, but I’m tense and not concentrating properly so it takes longer than it should. When I finally hear the crunch of footsteps on leaves I duck behind a tree trunk and wait.

He comes lumbering through a bush like a moron. He doesn’t even try stepping around it. He has a little bag of what looks like rocks, and there are twigs in his hair.

“Simon!” I hiss at him from my hiding place.

He turns around so quickly he almost falls over.

“Baz,” he smiles at me and I almost lose it right then. He’s gorgeous. “I was hoping I’d see you before I left.”

“Right,” I fiddle with the edge of my sleeve. I want to run to him, but I’m a Pitch. There are expectations I need to live up to.

“Run away with me,” I say instead, looking him right in the eyes.

He doesn’t look nearly as surprised as I’d have thought. To his credit, his expression doesn’t falter one bit.

“We shouldn’t-,” it stings, and I interrupt him before he can turn me down properly.

“I don’t see why not. You love me, and I love you. I have plenty of money and connections. We could hide out and just- be together. I don’t need anyone else.” I hate the way I sound. Petulant. Whiny.

He smiles and it’s devastating.

“You love me,” he says.

“Of course I do,” I snap at him. I can’t believe I’m in love with this fucking moron. My whole life is a joke.

“It’s the first time you’ve told me.”

“Yeah, and it changed everything,” I say and kick at the ground. I’m going to cry again.

“Baz,” I want to flinch away from him- how dare he try to comfort me when he’s the one making me so miserable? It’s weak, and pathetic, but when he pulls me into his arms I don’t pull away.

“You have no idea how tempting it is, how much I want to. But I can’t- we can’t.” I push my face into the skin of his neck, right against his pulse.

“Why not?”

“Because we’d have to spend the rest of our lives hiding. Because you’d never forgive yourself for dropping out of school. Because you’re _eighteen_.”

I frown into the side of his neck, but I let him hold me. I close my eyes and try to commit every part of this moment to memory.

I don’t know how long we stay that way, but I can’t bring myself to let him go.

The sound of snapping twigs startles me, and I jump away from him. I drop to the ground and roll sideways behind a thicket of bushes just as Bunce and Snow come into the little clearing.

“Where have you been?” Snow growls at himself. “We said we’d meet at that giant oak Baz likes.”

I frown. He must be following me into the forest too if he knows about my favourite tree. I need to keep an eye out for him when I come here to feed.

“I was looking for stones. White ones, right?” Simon says smoothly, holding up the bag. Snow narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else.

“Let’s get started, before we lose the moon behind the clouds,” Bunce says, clapping her hands together.

Snow pulls out his sword, Simon dumps the rocks to the dirt, and I know it’s the beginning of the end.

I don’t want to stay and watch, but I can’t go back to the room and just wait for him to leave me.

So instead I cast a concealment spell and hide most the way behind a tree stump, watching as the three of them start moving around the clearing.

They’ve done their research, I admit to myself grudgingly, as I watch them scratch symbols into the dirt and lay the rocks out under the full moon.

I’m too far away to hear the spells they’re murmuring, but I can hear the thunk the Sword of Mages makes when it’s tossed to the forest floor, and I can smell the heady perfume of Simon’s blood as he smears his bloody palms against the pentagram of rocks.

He shouldn’t be able to see me behind my concealment charm, but when he stands in the centre of the stones, bleeding from his palms, I swear his eyes meet mine.

Then the moon comes out from behind the clouds, and just like that he’s gone.

\-----

It’s weird, after.

I sneak back to Mummer’s by floating over the moat.

By the time I get into bed I’m exhausted- magically, physically, emotionally.

I pretend to be asleep when Snow gets in.

He must be tired too because he falls asleep much quicker than usual.

I wait until I hear his breathing even out, then I let myself open my eyes to watch him.

I used to think it couldn’t make things worse, but now that I know the salt of his skin, the pressure of his hands- well I guess it can’t get any worse _now_.

I have no idea what I’m going to do.

I drop into the seat across from him at breakfast.

It’s made both easier and more difficult by the fact that Bunce isn’t here yet.

When he stops shoveling eggs into his mouth to look up I decide that this was a terrible idea, but I can’t back down now.

“So, you and Bunce finally managed to send future Snow back,” I stir my coffee and hope he takes this all in stride.

“No thanks to you,” Snow jabs his fork in my direction, sending bits of egg flying everywhere.

“It’s just like you to be such a villain- you to offer your help and sabotage us from the inside.”

I sigh.

“I didn’t sabotage anything, you succeeded in sending him back. Also, you asked _me_ for help.”

“I won’t be making that mistake again,” Snow murmurs darkly.

I grit my teeth, but I don’t take the bait. Fighting with him won’t help me get what I want.

“So, I delayed you a little,” I admit, “but you still got what you wanted in the end. You sent him back and I didn’t do anything to stand in your way.” I hope he doesn’t pick up on the coaxing sound of my voice.

He narrows his eyes at me, but doesn’t say anything else until Bunce arrives, eager to discuss our magical words essays.

But it’s fine.

He loves me. He told me that, I didn’t imagine it.

It doesn’t matter what I do, eventually Simon Snow will fall in love with me. Maybe in a year, maybe in two. Maybe longer, but it’s fine. I can wait.

All I’ve got to do is wait.

\-----

Things don’t improve from there.

He starts picking fights again, accusing me of plotting against him.

I mean, this time I actually _am,_ but my plots are much more related to how to get him to fall in love with me- or at least stop despising me.

It’s harder to get him to talk to me now that Simon is gone, we don’t really have anything in common to talk about. Nothing that he engages with anyway.

I try inviting him to come play footie with Dev, Niall and I, but then he twists his ankle and convinces himself it was part of my plot. A bat comes in through the window he always insists on leaving open and he’s suddenly sure I’m using some kind of vampire familiar to threaten him.

He starts following me at night again, and it becomes difficult to feed properly, constantly making sure he doesn’t get too close or too lost.

It’s driving me mental.

I consider just putting all my cards on the table, getting starkers and waiting for him on his bed.

_‘I’m in love with you, and I think if you managed to not be completely obtuse every moment of your life you could eventually feel the same way about me. Also, fancy a shag?’_

It’s a stellar idea if my goal was to get him expelled. I doubt he’d even think twice before planting his fist in my jaw.

At least then he’d be out of my life for good. As good as, anyway. Then maybe I could breathe again, or focus on something, anything, else.

I keep trying. The more I try, the worse it gets.

I lie in bed late into the night, thinking back to the time Simon and I spent together. I wish I’d asked him more about the future. I wish he’d told me something I could hold on to.

I try not to think about it, but as the days tick by all I can think about is whether or not that was my one and only chance.

Maybe that’s all of Simon I’ll ever get.

I tell myself it can’t be true (it can’t. I was fine thinking that all I’d ever get was watching him, being near him. But now that I was so _close-_ to go from that to nothing is just- well it’s unbearable).

Days turn into a week, and still no progress. In fact, I’d say it’s worse than ever between us. Like Snow’s trying to regain the equilibrium he’s lost from our prior truce by reminding himself (and me) that our enemy status is still as deeply entrenched as ever.

But he’ll see. Someday. Hopefully soon.

Which is why I’m thrown off guard when I catch him and Wellbelove snogging in a deserted corridor after class.

I turn on my heel and basically run away.

Sure, they’re usually more on than off. But something in me wanted to believe that this time they’d be off longer. Permanently even. It had been longer than usual, anyway.

I shouldn’t know this. I shouldn’t care about it.

I don’t bother getting undressed before getting into bed.

I want to cry.

I won’t cry.

I bring the covers over my head until the air I’m breathing is stale and stifling, and then I keep breathing deeply anyway.

I don’t let myself cry.

\-----

I don’t bother getting up when I hear the knock at the door. Snow isn’t around, so whoever it is will faff off soon enough.

Three more knocks, then silence. Good.

I burrow deeper into my pile of blankets.

The scrape of the door against the stone of the floor makes me sit upright, grabbing my wand.

Bunce raises her brows at me from the door.

“Great Snakes Basil, this room reeks.”

 I frown.

“If it bothers you so much you can get right the fuck out.”

The look on her face makes my insides churn. She heads right to the window and opens it.

I manage to frown as she turns to me, but I don’t stop her from casting **Clean as a whistle** on me and my sheets. Grudgingly I notice that I feel the slightest bit better, albeit still greasy.

She sits on the edge of my bed and I can smell her blood- honey thick and warm. She must not know how long it’s been since I’ve properly fed, or she wouldn’t have dared to come this close.

“It’s been weeks now, Basil.”

“It may be a surprise to you, but I am actually aware of the passage of time-”

“You haven’t left this room in a week. You need to stop.”

“I don’t think I can,” I tell her honestly. She blinks.

“What happened between the two of you?” She asks, leaning closer.

“I didn’t realize you were so desperate for all the sordid details.”

“Sorry, I’m not. It’s just all so sudden, I was so sure you hated him-”

“I do. I’m just also desperately in love with him.” Saying the words out loud doesn’t do anything to relieve the ache in me.

The look of pity she gives me is almost worse than the self-loathing I’ve been wallowing in all week. Almost.

But she’s here, which means I won’t need to resort to embarrassing myself further to get what I know I need.

“I need a favour.” I tell her, and I know that in any other circumstance she’d be telling me where exactly to go.

“What is it?” She frowns and narrows her eyes, but I’m sure she’s already guessed.

“The Coven forbids messing with a natural order like time-,” she waves me off.

“Obviously. It’s dangerous in ways we can’t even imagine- and now one except Simon is even strong enough to try.”

“Right,” I wring my hands, this whole situation is so embarrassing. “I’ve been trying to try and modify the existing fortune-telling spells into something more specifically future-oriented. Something to enhance insight.”

“Dangerous,” she chastises me. “Dangerous and stupid. Even if it was possible for you to succeed, the second you gain any insight into the future you’ll change it based on what you know now in the past.”

“I know, but-,” I want to defend myself, but I can’t.

“What you need Basil, is a life. Maybe some hobbies, a couple of friends-”

“Exactly,” I cut her off. “I need a life again.”

“So? What’s stopping you?”

I stare at my hands. It’s embarrassing enough just being here. I can’t believe she’d make me say it too.

She sighs, and gets up to shut the window before shoving her hands into her pockets.

“Memory spells are illegal.”

“I know,” I tell her because I do.

“To forget the past few weeks you’ll need something pretty strong. Something like _Let’s just forget this whole thing ever happened_.” She says it without magic, but I flinch a little anyway.

“I know,” I say again, rubbing at my eyes.

“For this long a time, you’re at risk of permanent memory problems- and at the very least a drop of a couple of IQ points.”

“Maybe this is what it takes for you to finally come top of the class,” I snap at her, but my heart isn’t in it.

She looks me over and sighs again. It’s getting kind of annoying.

“When was the last time you bathed?” She asks, not unkindly. I give her my worst sneer, but she doesn’t back down.

“It’s been awhile.” I concede.

I am certain this is what tips the odds in my favour. I am compulsively fastidious. I should feel disgusted with myself at this off-brand behaviour, but I haven’t managed to feel much of anything.

Other than despair. And yearning. And longing. I’ve felt plenty of those.

She pulls my desk chair over.

“Here,” she says, tearing off a page of Snow’s school notebook and handing me a pen. “Let’s get started.”

\-----

I wake up in my bed with a headache. The room reeks, and I glance over at the window, which is closed just the way I like it. It’s early enough in the evening that the sun is still streaming into the room before it sets. I decide to make an exception and get up to open the window to air the room out.

Bunce is sleeping in Snow’s bed, Latin textbook open to material we haven’t covered yet. It’s just like her to work ahead.

I look around, Snow is nowhere to be seen.

First things first, I open the window and breathe in the fresh air. Better.

Then I grab one of Snow’s trainers and throw it at Bunce.

“Fuck off, Basil!” she yelps as she gets up. “How are you feeling?” she asks immediately after.

“Spectacular.” I say. It couldn’t be further from the truth. My hair is greasier than I can ever remember it being, and my uniform is filthy. I’m so thirsty I can smell her blood from across the room, and my own sour saliva starts pooling in my mouth as my fangs try to descend.

A couple of deep breaths keeps them sheathed, but only just.

“I don’t remember anything,” I say, and only because I’m panicking so much I am about to have a mental breakdown. “I woke up in my bed, but the last thing I remember is coming up the stairs after Elocution.”

“What chapter did we cover in Elocution?” she asks quickly.

“Seven.” I answer, because her tone makes me feel like it’s very important to let her know. Even though she’s just lived it.

She nods her head.

"I have something for you,” she holds out a piece of lined paper. It’s a letter addressed to me, in my own handwriting. It’s sealed with a wax imprint of my own signet ring.

"Dramatic,” I tell her, side-eyeing it.

“Of course it is- it was your idea.”

“And-pray tell, why don’t I remember my own brilliant idea?”

She just nods at the letter.

_You’ve had your memory wiped. It’s for the best. If you don’t believe me, just look at your current state. Don’t try and figure out what happened, it’s not worth it. Suffice to say it was of your own making, so leave Bunce and Snow alone._

This is the rudest letter I’ve ever received, and it’s slightly surprising that it came from myself. Allegedly. (Snow once wrote me a note that he threw at me during class. It said, “Fuck you dick”. I have it pressed between the pages of my favourite book. Even though the message is rude, it’s a fond memory for me. This letter has less profanity but is somehow ruder. It must be the tone.)

I look at Bunce who hasn’t once stopped looking at me since I’ve gotten up.

“Memory spells are illegal.”

“I know,” she says slowly, “you and I talked about it at great length.”

“How convenient for you that I don’t remember that,” I say icily as I try to decide what to do.

The letter could be false. I could have had my memory wiped and this is a cover up by Bunce and Snow to try and convince me that it was for the best.

I try to think of anything that I could have learned that would make them spell me. Unless it was an accident? I look back down at the letter. I definitely wrote this, or at least it looks and sounds like I did.

“Why would I want to erase my own memory?” I ask Bunce.

“Baz, you’re a hot mess. There was nothing else you felt like you could do.”

“I doubt it,” I say, curling my lip in distaste. I really do stink. I can’t believe she hasn’t said anything yet. Unless she had a go at me over it before this whole memory loss ordeal.

“I didn’t think you’d trust yourself, you don’t trust anyone,” she says, rifling through the pocket of her blazer. She pulls out her mobile and places it on my bed.

“Memory spells are illegal,” her voice sounds tinny, but it’s definitely Bunce speaking.

“I know,” I frown as I hear my own distorted voice.

“To forget the past few weeks you’ll need something pretty strong. Something like _Let’s just forget this whole thing ever happened_.”

“I know,”

“For this long a time, you’re at risk of permanent memory problems- and at the very least a drop in a couple of IQ points.”

“Maybe this is what it takes for you to finally come top of the class,”

Pause. I wonder if it’s the end of the recording-

“When was the last time you bathed?” I close my eyes and hang my head. I’ve never heard Bunce sound so gentle before. If this is how she was talking to me before it all went down, things must have been pretty bad.

“It’s been awhile.”

The recording ends.

It could be faked. It all could. She and Snow could have teamed together to set off an elaborate ruse where they have me believing that I had my own memory erased to- to some end or another.

But I’m sitting on my bed with sheets that look like they haven’t been changed in ages. I stink, and my hair is oily. There’s no trace of cobwebs or dirt on me, and the unnatural thirst I feel hints at the fact that I probably haven’t been out to hunt in a long time.

 _Awhile,_ I’d heard myself say.

“Thank you,” I tell her, frowning at my knees. I’m not entirely sure I know what I’m supposed to be thanking her for.

"Don’t mention it,” she says. “Seriously. I didn’t want to help you with this, and I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been so distressed.”

I nod.

“I need a shower.”

“At the very least,” She says, wrinkling her nose. I head into the bathroom as I hear the door click shut behind her.

Snow gets back to the room as I’m changing my sheets. I tried spelling them clean, but they still felt gross so I decided to just toss them and use another set. The window is still open, because my sense of smell is sensitive, and the room isn’t quite yet to rights.

He stares at me, and I feel the static from his cross in my gums. Good, I’m almost out of my mind with thirst, and I’ve never seen anything I want to eat more.

“Penny told me I shouldn’t say anything about the last few weeks. She said she wiped your memory when you asked and that since it’s illegal we should forget about it.”

I nod, since this is a pretty good summary of things as I understand them.

“As I would expect, you’re doing a really good job of not talking about it,” I tell him.

“Shut up. I don’t know why you needed your memory wiped-”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know Snow. Like how to do magic for one. I’d never expect you to understand anything that isn’t related to food.”

“What happened-”

“I don’t know what happened. All I know is that it was bad enough that I stopped showering and eating, and I had to go to Bunce for help. I know you don’t give a shit what happens to me, but if you want to keep her safe I suggest you don’t bring up her illegal use of magic any more.”

“I do give a shit what happens to you!” We both take a step back in genuine shock. He sounded sincere. He rubs the back of his neck, “I mean- no one should ever have to suffer that much. I don’t know what happened, but I wish I had known how to help. I would have.”

He’s so good. He’s awful, but he’s so good. How does he expect to kill me one day if the sight of me depressed and suffering makes him want to help? A fool’s hero. I sneer at him.

“That attitude will do you no favours when it comes time for us to kill each other. Just another one of the reasons I’ll beat you.”

And then I’m out the door and down the staircase before he can respond. 

 


	2. PART 2

Two weeks after Baz and Penny’s really confusing act of solidarity finds me and Penny in the Wavering Woods again after dark.

“Why do we spend so much time here? I fucking hate the Wavering Wood.”

She nods distractedly.

“It’s only because of the full moon. You’ve got pay the blood tithe we owe from sending Simon back to his proper time. Once we’re done we won’t need to come back again.”

I summon the Sword of Mages and sigh.

“This sword hasn’t seen any action other than mild self-injury in ages. Seems kind of wasted for a historic weapon.”

“Pay attention Simon,” Penny chides, looking up at the clouds, “while you’re not necessarily casting a spell we’re dealing with powerful magic. We need to be concentrating.”

“Right,” I tell her, and drag the sword across my palm. The pain is sharp and immediate, and I feel the tacky swell of my own blood pooling in my palm. Merlin, I hope Baz hasn’t chosen to hunt in the forest tonight. He can probably smell this from miles away. (Or maybe I’m thinking of sharks.)

Penny opens the small bag of white rocks we’d gathered, and I smear my blood on them clumsily. Fuck, it really, really hurts. I’ll have to ask her to heal me up properly after; I’ve got a vampire as a roommate.

We spread the rocks out in a pentagram and I get a violent sense of déjà vu. Penny scratches some runes in the dirt and I frown. They don’t look like the same ones we used last month, but I’m sure she knows better than I do.

“What now?” I ask, retrieving a sour cherry scone from my pocket. She wrinkles her nose at me as I pick some lint off it before I begin eating. I should offer her a bit, but she doesn’t look too impressed with me, so I don’t think I’ll bother.

“We’ve got to see if the tithe is accepted. I’ve never done this before, but if it’s accepted we should see some sort of sign.”

The moon comes out from behind the clouds and shines on the stones. The runes don’t glow, but there’s definitely more to them than just scratches in the dirt.

The wind picks up suddenly, and a loud screech from an owl nearby causes me to jump. My magic spikes with the unexpected sound, and I feel it pulled from me, spreading out before concentrating on the pentagram-

And then I’m tugged off my feet.

I land on my knees and fall over face-first into the dirt. Fuck, it tastes rank.

“Fuck. Penny!” I spit, and sit up.

I am no longer in the Wavering Wood.

“Fuck,” I say again, this time with feeling.

I take a second to get my bearings, and realize I’m in a good position, generally. My wand is still in my back pocket, and the sword of Mages is lying next to me on the ground. I double check, and sure enough I have two sour cherry scones left in one of my pockets.

I eat one of them while I try to figure out what happened. My palm still throbs.

I decide that maybe finding out where I am is a better option. Probably easier, anyway.

Wherever I am, it’s late. I’m in a pair of trackies and a short-sleeved shirt, but I’ve had to make do with far less during some of my more spontaneous adventures.

Alright then.

I try most of the tracking spells I know, focusing on Penny. Nothing happens.

Good thing it’s late, because I’ve been getting a few dodgy looks, running through the park with a sword out, mumbling nonsense under my breath. Also, my palm is still fucking bleeding, so I look like I’ve stuck my hand in someone’s chest and ripped their heart out. (Kind of like that bloke in the Temple of Doom. Except the dark ritual I was trying to invoke was tame really- more like an interest fee on a debt rather than an actual human sacrifice.)

I’ve figured out that I’m in London- in Hyde Park. Big old sign at the park entrance gave it away- along with a helpful map of the city for tourists. I’ve not often been in London proper, so I’m having a right time trying to figure out where I’m going.

I would think back to Watford, but if my tracking spells aren’t locating Penny in that direction then…

Still nothing.

Maybe I’m too stressed to work these kind of spells right now? They take a lot of magic, but also a fair amount of concentration, and I’ll admit- I’m getting pretty freaked out. I can’t bring myself to try and track Agatha (not _after,_ anyway. Seems like we’re always on a break these days.)(Penny hadn’t wanted to hear about it. She says dating Agatha is the only truly stupid thing I‘ve ever done. It hurts to hear- especially from her. I’m not stupid- I’m not- and I know that dating Agatha is the only thing I’m consistently doing right. Even if we are more off than on these days. Probably because of the stress. Once we’re out of school and the humdrum is defeated we’ll finally be able to get back on track and do this relationship for real- on the off chance that I survive that long, that is.)

I sigh and wipe my bloody hand on my trackies before ducking behind a chip stand. There’s a couple of rough looking kids about my age back there. They look like they’re about to say something but then one of them nods towards my sword, the hilt tarnished with my blood. They faff off pretty quickly after that.

I’m almost out of ideas. There’s only one person left to track, and even in these circumstances I really don’t want to go looking for them.

“ **Keep your friends close** ,” I whisper, and immediately I have a hunch on where I’m headed.

 

\-----

 

London can be really fucking gross.

I’ve been making my way through the city for longer than I’d expected, following the feeling in my gut. Every now and then I stop and head in another direction. I’m not worried about being lost though- I know I’ll get to him eventually.

At first it was nice, pleasant even. I don’t often come to London, so it was nice to watch the city as I passed through.

But then the crowds of people started thinning, and the night got colder. The streets got narrower and dingier as I kept following nothing but a hunch.

I find myself in a dark alley, leaning against a brick wall. It smells like piss, and the cold of the brick is seeping through my shirt.

I want to leave and head back to the street but I can’t make myself move. Suddenly a chill goes right through me, and I push myself away from the wall and crouch behind a dumpster. I hear soft footsteps.

They stop, and I hold my breath. I can hear my own heartbeat.

“What do we have here?”

The voice comes from directly on top of me and I swing the Sword of Mages wildly as I scramble to my feet.

Baz is staring at me from where he’s crouched on top of the dumpster. It looks like he’s got his wand out.

“You’ve been tracking me.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah, I-”

I stop as he sniffs the air.

“Don’t do that,” I hiss at him, “it smells awful here, and you’re sitting on top of a dumpster.”

“Your magic,” he says, jumping to the ground noiselessly. “When did that come back?” I back up against the alley wall again as he shoves right into my personal space. He reaches out and tilts my head up into the faint light from the end of the alley. It’s too dark to see him properly, but I watch his eyes narrow as he stares down at me. “When are you from?” he asks, trailing his thumb along my jaw.

I slap his hand away and heft the sword threateningly.

“What do you mean? Where in London are we?”

“Nowhere you want to be. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Look, I just need your help,” I flinch a little- it doesn’t do to sound weak around Baz. (And was that my imagination or did he just look down at my bloody hand? Fuck, I should have thought to try and heal myself instead of chasing down a vampire while nursing an open wound. No wonder he knew I was coming- he could probably smell me chasing him across London.)

“Undoubtedly. Come along, Snow.” He turns and heads out towards the street, calm as you please. Like his archnemesis didn’t just pop out of space-time covered in his own blood, vulnerable and desperate for help.

But in the end I’ve got no choice, so I follow.

 

\-----

 

I don’t know where I expect Baz to take me, but it’s not at all where I end up.

I always imagined him living in a huge family mansion somewhere, someplace in the middle of nowhere where all the trees are dead and rotting from the roots up. I imagined him spending all his time indoors in front of the fire, musty drapes pulled tight across lead paned windows while he and his family toasted their own power and planned my ultimate demise.

Or maybe even somewhere underground, where the sunlight had never once intruded- and the dampness drew rats and vermin to him like a living buffet. (At night I assumed he’d lure young women down the steps, holding their hands with a gentleman’s touch as they went slowly, mindful of their shoes. Then once inside he’d drain them dry and turn their skin into bindings for the endless books he owned.)

(On second thought, maybe Penny is right, and I put too much thought into things like this. Maybe I should watch fewer horror movies. I don’t even like them that much, but they’re useful for research.)

Instead I follow him to a quiet, clean part of town and up to a pretty, well-maintained building. We climb up several flights of stairs until we reach a blue door that he spells open, and then pushes me inside.

He flicks on the light and I blink in surprise.

It’s- cozy. It looks like a regular, normal home- not at all like I imagined a vampire’s place to look. The aesthetic here is much less ‘immortal bloodsucking edgelord’ and more ‘bloke who watches too much home channel.’

I turn around as he shrugs his coat off.

“You’re not Baz,” I say slowly, watching as he runs a hand through his hair and unlaces his oxfords.

“I most certainly am,” he corrects me, and he’s right- it is Baz, just not the Baz I know. This Baz is- well he doesn’t look exactly like my roommate. His hair is longer, and hangs loose around his face. (It’s a good look on him. He’s probably saving a fortune by forgoing all that stupid hair stuff he used to slick it back with.) He’s sturdier too, like he’s finally getting fed and sleeping properly.

He’s been watching me as I look at him. He crosses his arms and leans against the door. I wish he hadn’t locked it.

“First things first,” he pulls out his wand and I jump. “ **On the mend**!” My hand heats up and burns as I watch the skin of my palm knit itself back together. The heat from his magic lingers in my fingers. It’s quite pleasant.

“Was that bothering you-? Because you’re a vampire?” He ignores me. “Also, it’s rude to cast spells on someone without asking first.”

“When are you from?” He asks again, and I sigh.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean what year is it? How old are you? You’re obviously not in your correct timeline.”

“I’m not?” I look around the flat. Nothing _looks_ obviously out of place. There were no flying cars on the streets either (which really is a big disappointment thinking about it.)

“No,” he says quietly. “If you were my Snow, you’d be twenty-four, and a good two stone heavier at least.”

“I’ve gotten _fat_?!,” I cry, before I stop. “Wait- what do you mean _your_ Snow?”

He looks at me for a second before he turns towards the kitchen. “I meant the Snow from my timeline. The one I know.”

Oh, that makes sense.

"Can we talk while we eat? I’m starving.” He’s already pulling things out of the fridge. 

And that’s how I end up having a fry up with some kind of future version of Baz at two in the morning. He’s made all my favourite foods. I want to be suspicious about this weird bit of kindness, but my stomach is too grateful to examine his motivations too closely.

We don’t talk until I’ve cleaned my plate. As usual he doesn’t eat anything, just sips at a cup of tea and watches me.

“I was trying to pay a blood tithe,” I explain to him, “as repayment for unravelling a summoning spell.”

“For sending Snow back?”

I stop abruptly.

“How do you know about that? Your memory was wiped.”

“You told me when you got back.”

“You’re in contact with my older self?”

“You could say that.”

“Yes or no, choose one.” I growl at him. His eyebrow goes up- and I still hate that look on him. Then I realize I probably shouldn’t be raising my voice at him in his own place- especially when I’m trying to ask him for a favour.

“Yes, then. We are in contact and I heard all about his trip back to Watford.”

I frown. I’d assumed that the last I’d ever see of Baz was at graduation (until we met on the battlefield at least.) The idea of being in contact with him after school is- weird.

“He doesn’t have magic anymore. Why would you talk to him? Mages don’t associate with Normals.” He just looks at me. Maybe he’s reconsidering- I did make a good point after all. I’m not wrong either, Baz is a huge snob, he’d never associate willingly with a Normal. He must be up to something. “Can you get into contact with him- Future Simon? I need help getting back to seventh year- that’s where I’m from.”

He nods. “Sure, I’ll call him in the morning and we’ll see what we can do.” I frown. That seems like a long time to leave an emergency like this.

“What’s wrong with now? Can’t you take me to him?”

“I could,” he concedes, and I start getting up, “but he’s in Chicago right now. Visiting Bunce.”

“Oh.” My heart sinks. Penny lives in Chicago?

So this is the future I have to look forward to. No magic, no family, no Penny. No wonder Future Simon was so obsessed with Baz- he probably trails around after him here like a lost puppy. He’s got nothing else in his life.

“Don’t worry yourself Snow. We’ll call them in the morning and get you sorted out. Although I suspect that we’ll have to wait for the full moon again to send you back. Snow mentioned something about that.”

I try not to think about it as I watch him rifle through a linen cabinet for extra pillows and blankets for the sofa. I must not do a very a good job of it, because he’s still looking at me strangely. If I didn’t know Baz better, I’d guess it was with- concern? I must look a right fright.

He turns around as he starts heading into what must be his bedroom.

“Look, Snow. It’ll be fine. Just try to sleep for now and we’ll figure it out as it comes. But have a wash first, you’re filthy and I don’t fancy spending the morning spelling my sofa clean.”

I’m still staring when he closes the door to his bedroom.

 

\-----

 

I’m up with the sun, but I’m forced to fidget until he drags himself out of bed. (Doesn’t he need to be up early for work or something? What do people even _do_ in the future?)

“Can we call Future Simon and Penny?” I ask, already sitting at the kitchen island when he finally finishes his shower and starts the kettle.

“Snow, it’s barely gone five in Chicago. Give them some time to get up.”

I frown, and he looks up and sighs.

“Fine, indulge yourself.” He produces a mobile and slides it across to me before heading to the fridge.

There’s a passcode. I pick it up to try and get a better look, but the phone unlocks anyway. Weird.

I check his contacts-

“I’m not in here,” I say, scrolling through them again just to make sure.

He turns around and grabs the phone so quickly it takes me a second to realize what’s happened. The tips of his ears are the faintest shade of pink.

He goes back to making breakfast as the phone starts ringing.

“You’d better have a _good_ reason for waking me up at the bleeding crack of dawn-”

“Uhm, yeah sorry about that. Hi.” Pause.

“Baz?”

“Guess who spent most of last night tracking me across London?”

“Let me get Penny up-”

Baz and I huddle around the phone as we all start trying to work it out.

“Simon, are you okay?” Penny asks me immediately.

“Of course he’s okay, he’s been with me,” Baz gripes.

“I’m fine, Penny. When did you move to Chicago?” I ask, because I can’t help it. I wish I knew how long we have together. Why I don’t just go with her? There’s a thought.

“We can talk about that later- we’ll need to decide how much about the future is safe for you to know.”

“Why? Would I be able to change anything if-”

“No!” All three of them are emphatic. I frown at Baz as if it’s his fault.

“The sooner we figure this out the better,” Baz says, spreading his hands out on the counter, “I don’t think I can handle any more time travel.”

“None of this has anything to do with you,” I tell him. “Stop being so dramatic. My life’s the one being ruined here.”

“Hey!” Future Simon’s voice is tinny but still annoying, “don’t talk to him like that. It’s been rough on all of us. None of us are too keen on being caught and tried by the Coven for illegal use of magic.”

“The Mage would never let that happen. He’d protect us.” The silence the follows this statement is awkward. I wish I hadn’t said anything.

“What I want to know,” Penny says, ignoring me, “is how come Simon doesn’t remember any of this.”

“Why should I? It’s happening now for the first time-”

“Time seems to exist as a closed loop,” Baz explains neatly, tapping his finger against the countertop, “if Snow is here, now, then it means in the past you’ve already been here. You should remember having lived through this.”

“I didn’t remember meeting my older self either,” Future Simon says, “I assumed because there’s got to a first time in the chain of events. I assumed it was the first time.”

“We’ll need to look it up, but I don’t-,” Penny trails off and we all get quiet.

“So, what now?”

“Baz, I don’t know what notes you’ve got from the last time-”

“None, seeing as my memory was wiped, and it was over seven years ago for me. Any research is going to have to start from scratch.”

“Okay well, Simon and I will do some research on our end. Luckily Micah has access to the archives at the University of Chicago, so we’ll look into that.”

“What if we don’t figure it out? I mean, we were only trying to pay a blood tithe and…” I trail off. Baz looks up at me, but Penny answers first.

“We’ll figure it out. Meanwhile, Simon- no not you, Watford Simon- stay with Baz until we do.”

“I can’t stay here, I’ll stay at Future Simon’s.”

Penny starts laughing. The familiar sound is comforting, even if it’s being done at my expense.

“What’s so funny?” I ask her, but she ignores me, and her voice grows fainter as the laughter dies out.

“Okay, text us if you find anything useful. Otherwise we’ll regroup in a day or so.” Future Simon tells us, “Now take me off speaker for a sec.”

Baz grabs the phone before I can protest and shuts himself in the bedroom. Weird.

I try to listen at the door, but he must have spelled it. I pull my wand out from my back pocket and am trying to think of a good counter spell when it opens suddenly.

“Ever heard of privacy, Snow?” His tone is sharp, but he’s smiling. “Come on, let’s eat.”

 

\-----

 

I’m as deeply asleep as I’ll get in an unfamiliar space when I hear the click of the front door shutting.

Immediately I’m up.

I pull on my trainers faster than I’ve ever done anything, and I grab my wand before heading out. I leave the door unlocked because I don’t have a key- I should probably ask for one.

The waning moon is bright, and I’m thankful because I know I’m going to end up lost somewhere dark and dirty. At least this way I’ll be able to see any threats.

I don’t know how he knew I was tracking him the night before, but my hand isn’t bleeding this time and my clothes aren’t covered in crusty blood so I figure I have an advantage against his vampire senses. Plus, I put a tracking charm on his shoes after he’d pretended to go to bed. It had taken a long time to get it right, but I was motivated enough to put in the effort.

The night is cold, but I’m running hot as I jog to keep up with his fervid pace. The charm isn’t flawless, I keep getting pulled into obstacles and people as they come between us, but at least I don’t worry that he can feel the traces of my magic working on him this time.

It’s late by the time I lean against a street lamp to catch my breath. He hasn’t stopped once- no wonder he’s always kicked my arse at football. He’s out running at least 10k every night by the looks of it. His thighs must be insane.

Like I’m willing it to happen, he finally stops.

 _I’ve got you now_.

I turn the corner, wand out, and see-

Nothing.

A homeless person sleeping on a bench, and a 24-hour diner.

I mean- the charm is pulling me towards the diner, and I could eat. I wish I had thought to pick someone’s pocket for cash while I’ve been out. Or had checked Baz’s flat for his wallet or something.

“Snow,” I jump as Baz suddenly turns up in my personal space.

“Don’t do that!” I hiss at him, “you could have startled me into summoning the sword.”

But he just laughs and walks towards the door.

“Hungry?”

I’m sure this is some kind of set up, but I go anyway, peeking at his shoes while I do. I freeze. He’s wearing trainers.

He’s already seated in a booth by the time I follow him. My charm is still pulling me towards him. When I drop heavily into the seat across from him I finally see why- his pair of oxfords are tucked carefully under the seat, almost out of sight. I frown at him.

“ _These boots were made for walking_ ,” he says without magic. Fuck me, I’ve been chasing a pair of empty shoes all night. Who knows what he’s been off plotting while I’ve been distracted. “I guess some habits die hard,” he says, edge of his mouth quirking up as I grab a menu and start flipping through it violently.

I’m going to order everything I could possibly eat and make him foot the bill.

He watches me eat again, sipping on a cuppa while I demolish a stack of waffles and three helpings of bacon. He’d ordered a side of fruit and had pushed it towards me with a disgusted look on his face. I had planned on not eating it just to spite him, but in the end I decide it’s not worth wasting food to make a point. Besides, I love strawberries.

I’m just finishing up a helping of baked beans when his phone chirps. He pulls it out and checks it before smiling and slipping it back into his pocket.

“Who was that?” I ask, and he sneers. I swallow my mouthful and try again, “if you just let me into Future Simon’s place I can stay out of your way until he gets back. I don’t need you to look after me.”

He sighs and puts his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his palm.

“I want to look after you,” he says quietly.

“Right, because you’re freaked out about me fucking up and changing time. I promise to just- watch tv or something. Maybe hit up a chip stand and eat in the park. Everyday stuff.”

“If you want to go to the park, we can go to the park,” he says, and it’s like he’s being obtuse on purpose. It’s not like him.

“I don’t care about going to the park. I just meant- don’t you want your space? You’re a pretty private person. Let me get out of your hair for awhile- we don’t ever need to tell him. You can come get me before he gets back. We can say we spent the whole time together making friendship bracelets and ordering takeaway.”

“So after a night of attempted stalking you’re trying to convince me you’re ready to respect my right to privacy?” He laughs, and stares down into his mug. He must be getting tired, because there’s no bite to his comments, just something- soft. A kind of fondness that must be related to misplaced nostalgia over school or something. He looks back up at me, “I don’t need space from you.”

I frown but I guess it makes sense. We’ve lived together for almost a decade. Sharing a room with someone for that long guarantees you’re always knee deep in their business, even if you go out of your way to avoid interacting like we do. But even with all that I know him probably better than I know anyone.

“Does that mean you’re ready to admit to me that you went out tonight to suck the blood out of living people and turn their skin into crisps?”

He actually looks surprised.

“Why would I do that? You’ve been accusing me of being a vampire for ages- but even you have to admit you’ve never seen me actually harm anyone.” He pauses and reconsiders, “anyone who isn’t you, that is.”

“Philippa Stainton,” I say and something I don’t recognize passes over his face. It’s gone before I can figure out what it is.

“Do you have proof?” he asks bitchily. Must have poked a nerve.

“I don’t need proof to know you did _something_. Just like I don’t need proof to know you were out tonight looking to drink the blood of living things like some kind of monster.”

“We’re done here,” he says, standing up so quickly I stop with my fork halfway to my mouth. He opens his wallet and tosses a couple of bills on the table before grabbing his shoes and stalking out. I realize my mouth is open, so I close it. I guess it was kind of rude to say it out loud- even if it’s the truth.

Then I realize I’m stuck somewhere in London, with no idea how to get back to Baz’s place. Fuck. My tracking charm wore off when I got close enough to the shoes so it’s not like I can wait around for him to get home and just follow. I’ve got to go and try and find him _now._

That doesn’t stop me from asking the waitress for a box for my bangers though. The only sin I know is to waste good food.

I’m surprised to see him waiting for me when I get out of the diner. He’s standing under the streetlight, tip of his cigarette glowing faintly.

“You shouldn’t be smoking,” I tell him because I can’t help it, “you’re flammable.”

“So is everything,” he says flicking the ash to the pavement. There’s a little ember scarily close to the edge of his trainer. I move slowly until I’m as close as I dare before sticking out my foot and snuffing it out.

We don’t talk the rest of the way back to his flat.

 

\-----

 

I don’t sleep once we’re back. I toss and turn, staring at the ceiling. I can feel the fatigue in my bones, but when I close my eyes all I think about is the look on Baz’s face in the diner when I’d accused him of being a monster. (It shouldn’t bother me as much as it does- that’s exactly what vampires are. I’m not wrong.)

I’ve always had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places- and constantly shuffling from group home to group home never helped any. In fact, the only place I sleep good and proper is at home, at Watford.

I creep to the door before I can convince myself it’s a bad idea.

The soft snoring sounds are comforting, as is the familiar shape of him in the glow of the little lamp he’s left on. That’s weird, he usually turns the lamp off after he’s done reading.

I spread the blankets and pillows out on the floor next to the bed. It looks like a king- there’s definitely room for me but I’m already intruding- besides, getting into bed with a sworn enemy is crossing every line there is.

“S’mon?” he grunts as I click off the bedside lamp. A cold hand reaches out and grips me around the wrist.

“Shhh, it’s just me. I couldn’t sleep out there.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, it’s just. Well, it’s just a lot right now.”

“C’mon, then.” He pulls, gently enough that I could shrug out of his grasp if I wanted to.

I don’t want to.

“I can sleep on the floor,” I offer half-heartedly.

“Just, c’mere,” he slurs with sleep. The bed really is big enough for both of us. I crawl in next to him before either of us can change our minds, and sleep finds us both quickly.

 

\-----

 

I’m up early. I groan and squint at the alarm clock. It’s about the time I usually get up for breakfast at Watford. I want to call Penny and Future Simon again, see what they’ve figured out, but it’s probably too early for them.

I turn to the side and think about getting up to find something to eat.

There’s a graphic novel on the bedside table next to me. It looks interesting. Wait-

I glance over at Baz to make sure he’s still asleep, then I pull out the bedside drawer as quietly as I can manage.

This is someone’s stuff, and it’s not Baz’s. It’s all thrown in haphazardly, nothing is organized the way he likes. (So I’ve been in his bedside table a few times back at Watford. Usually only during emergencies- or when I’d run out of lube.) There’re books he’d never read, scraps of paper he’d never keep, and a bunch of clutter that he’d never stand for.

I close the drawer shakily.

Baz has a girlfriend. One who has excellent taste in graphic novels and suffers from chronic messiness. I wonder whether or not she lives here. (She can’t- otherwise I’d have seen her around and I wouldn’t have been able to sleep in what must be her spot. I’d have climbed in and woken her up screaming- and then Baz would _really_ let me have it then.)

I want to go back to sleep for a bit, but it feels weird knowing I’m intruding on someone else’s side of the bed.

I get up instead and head out to the living room.

I’m most of the way through one of the books I’d grabbed from the bedside table (it’s really good), when Baz exits the bedroom, yawning. I think I recognize his trackies from somewhere- school probably.

“Morning,” he mumbles, before heading to the kitchen. Good- he’s a surprisingly good cook and I could use feeding up right about now. I’ve had a dreadful sinking feeling in my stomach since I’ve gotten up and I’m positive it has something to do with the lack of timely breakfasts around here.

I open my mouth to ask for eggs this morning. “Where’s your girlfriend?” comes out instead. He pauses and looks over his shoulder at me. He looks confused.

“Snow, I have no idea how you got to this particular conclusion, but-”

“The bedside table is messy!” I explain myself before he can take the piss, “you’re so organized, and it’s a mess. Besides, you’d never read graphic novels. At least not openly.” I pause and lift my book for emphasis. “You’d probably burn them or something so no one could prove that you had. You’re too much of a snob to let it get out.”

More silence.

“So what, you’re Sherlock Holmes snooping around the flat now?” he says, but it lacks his usual heat. If he’s angry about my violation of his personal space, he isn’t letting on. Probably lulling me into a false sense of security so he can spring something on me later- like locking me in the linen closet and spelling the sheets to smother me.

“I want to call Future Simon and Penny,” I tell him over breakfast. He’s still not eating anything. I wish he would, I know he _must_. The idea that he doesn’t feel comfortable doing it around me makes me feel weird. “I want to know what they’ve figured out.”

“Give them some time,” Baz says, flicking through the paper for the crossword, “it’s only been a day. Bunce will need at least a couple to organize all her notes from last time and look up information on blood tithes. Plus, you know Snow won’t hardly be a help.”

“I’m not an idiot,” I grit my teeth, but I know he’s right. He raises his brows at me but doesn’t comment further. “What’s the plan for today? Don’t you need to go to work or something?”

He leans on his elbow and drums his fingers against the counter. It’s a stalling tactic, I’m fairly certain. He’s just as cagey as Future Simon had been about revealing stuff about the future. As if I could use any of this information to do anything.

“I’m between jobs right now,” he finally admits.

“You’re _unemployed_?” I say, and a little bit of egg falls out of my mouth. He wrinkles his nose at me. (Probably because of the egg, but I’m sure the tone of my voice probably doesn’t help.)

“Between contracts,” he hisses at me like I’ve offended him. “I have a job offer lined up, but it won’t start for awhile yet.”

“You don’t need to defend yourself to me,” I say grinning, holding up my hands in mock defeat. His scowl only deepens.

“I’m not.”

“I don’t know, you sound really defensive about this.”

“Well I’m not. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“I’m sure you don’t. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason why Watford’s top student finds himself unemployed.”

He bares his teeth at me. (That’s new. It’s kind of- _feral_. Weirdly, it makes my skin feel hot. Probably because it’s a reminder that he’s a monster and probably only just barely holding out on tearing me to shreds.)

We spend the day siting around the flat, sometimes near each other, and sometimes apart. We nap, play video games, read. It’s surprisingly domestic. I’m actually a lot less stressed now that I don’t have stuff for school to worry about- although I know that means exam season is going to be unbearable when I get back. (Oh Merlin, I better get back in time for end of term exams. I don’t think I can talk way out of missing those- even if I did lie and pretend like I was kidnapped by the Humdrum.)

 

\-----

 

Later that night we don’t even pretend like I’m not following him around London while he hunts. He stays just out of sight, but doesn’t counter my tracking charm, and I’m barely surprised when I only catch up with him outside of the same diner as before. I walk in and see him sitting calmly in the same booth as before, like he didn’t just spend his night noshing on small mammals in the dark.

I’m filthy. He’d made me chase him through the rain, along the edge of the Thames, up the fire escape and across the roof of an abandoned building- among other places. Through parks, darkened alleys, cramped car parks. I guess the sorts of places the urban vampire frequents.

He raises an eyebrow as I come up to the table, my shoes squelching with some sort of mystery liquid. I can see the bloke at the register giving me a dirty look before heading towards the back, but Baz spells me clean before he manages to come back with a mop. Immediately I feel a hundred times better.

Now I can eat.

“Merlin, what would we do without magic?” I say as I sit down opposite him. Then I realize what I’ve said and I stop. He stops. I frown at the table. What _am_ I going to do without magic? I look up at Baz but he’s staring out the darkened window instead of meeting my gaze.

Magic has given me everything. A home, my friends. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a parent. A purpose. Even a sworn enemy (I guess two of those if you count the Humdrum.) I’ve been avoiding thinking about this, but I can’t any longer.

If magic has given me everything, then it follows that without it I’m nothing. I won’t have anything.

“Baz,” I start, and he waves me off before I can follow through with my question.

“I don’t know how much I should tell you about the future. I’m worried it might change things,” he explains slowly, fiddling with the corner of the menu. (I don’t know why he’s even holding it. He’s obviously not going to order anything. Why bother pretending? Also, how does he always seem to know what I’m thinking? Can vampires read minds? I hope not, because then he’d know how much this idea freaks me out, especially considering I haven’t ever considered it before- stupid, stupid.)

We make eye contact over the table and I watch his expression flicker, and then just like that he’s giving in. “You have your magic up until you use it to defeat the Humdrum. It’s brave and heroic and all that sort of rubbish you’re frighteningly good at.”

I do a double take.

“You think I’m good at being brave and heroic?” This is probably the nicest thing he’s ever said about me.

“If you ever bring it up again, I’ll lie.” He pauses, “I’m surprised you didn’t ask your older self this. He was back at Watford long enough.”

“We didn’t- I didn’t really like him.”

“No?”

“No, he was- not really- he was pretty self-righteous and annoying actually.” I might as well be honest.

“Amen,” Baz agrees, but he’s smiling in a way that almost looks almost fond. I’m sure if anyone can relate though, it’s him. So I guess we’ve got that in common.

“Plus, I could barely get a word in edgewise. He spent all his time trying to talk to you. I’d come up after class and he’d be in my business, ‘where’s Baz, when’s Baz getting back? Does he have practice this evening?’ It was exhausting- even I’m not that obsessed with you.”

I’m not imagining it, he’s full on smiling. Without the usual edge of his cruelty it looks- soft, warm. I wonder what he’s thinking.

“What happens after?” I blurt out. “After the Humdrum,” I clarify.

“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” he says.

“Is there a war?”

He wrinkles his nose at me, but I guess he decides that it’s harmless enough. “No.”

“Do I get my magic back?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What about-,” this hurts to ask, but I have to. “What about Aggie?” I know we’re on _another_ break, but we’ve always gotten back together. Everyone knows we belong together. But I know her mum is obsessed with power- and if I don’t have it anymore, then…

His kindness drops from him so quickly it feels like whiplash.

“What about her?”

“How does it affect us- me and her? Losing my magic? Will our kids be magic- or are they going to be… just normal. Like me.”

He narrows his eyes at me and makes a sour expression. Maybe Aggie is still a sore spot in the future. Maybe he still carries some kind of torch for her. I think I can see the outline of his fangs through his cheeks. It looks like he’s sucking on them.

“There is absolutely nothing normal about you, Snow.”

I frown. I can’t tell if he’s being cruel on purpose, or if he’s just a dick and doesn’t know how to be nice for once. It was a stupid idea to try and ask him anything. To admit to being vulnerable, even just a little.

“Simon,” he says as I get up, and I freeze in shock- it’s weird hearing him use my proper name. “It matters less than you think. The right person- they won’t care. Even without your magic you’re all the same things you’ve always been. You’re the furthest thing from normal.”

I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye as I gesture towards the doors and get up to leave.

The moment I get outside I feel my legs wobble, and I finally let myself sit down on the curb and put my head in my hands.

 

\-----

 

“I want to talk to Agatha,” I tell him when we get back. I purposefully stare somewhere over his shoulder while I say it. I can’t imagine seeing the look on his face while I say this.

He sighs. “Snow-”

“No, just- I just need to do this okay?”

“I’m not going to stop you, but it’s late, and she doesn’t know about the time travel-”

“It won’t come up,” I tell him truthfully, “I just…”

I don’t really know what to say. It’s probably bad manners to tell your former (and maybe current?) romantic rival that you want to talk to your ex and they have to help you do it because you can’t do it without their help, even though they also have some kind of weird history together that you’ve honestly never really understood.

But he hands over his mobile without saying anything. He’s got that scarily blank expression on his face again- the one I remember so often from school. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

“I’ll just-,” I gesture towards the bedroom and he just shrugs. I can see a muscle tense in his jaw, otherwise I’d believe he’s completely unaffected by any of this.

I sit on the bed and run my hand through my hair. It takes me a long time to build up the courage to actually make the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi Aggie, it’s me.” Silence. Then I realize- she doesn’t recognize my voice- or the number. “Simon,” I clarify, “Simon Snow.”

“Oh, hi Simon. Just a sec.”

It’s longer than a second. Much longer. Finally-

“Hi, sorry. I’ve gotten a new mobile and I guess my contacts didn’t transfer over. How are you? Is everything okay?”

No, things really aren’t.

“They’re great,” I lie through my teeth. It sounds like a lie too, coming out too bright. “I just- I was just thinking about you and wondered how you’ve been?”

“Oh- good. Things are- well they’re pretty great,” there’s a sound of laughter in the background, and a heavy feeling of dread sits in my stomach. “Stop,” she stage-whispers to someone on the other side of the line, and I’ve never smaller in my whole life. “Look, Simon- sorry, but we’re really busy right now. I’m out with some friends. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sure.” I’ve never wanted anything less.

“It was good hearing from you, we’ll talk soon okay?”

“Yeah, okay. See you.”

The end of the call doesn’t do anything to lessen my feeling of dread.

I can’t believe this is my life. This whole time I’ve been worried about defeating the Humdrum so that I could live the rest of my life- and now…

I don’t exactly have much worth living for. No Penny, no Agatha, no magic. I’m pretty much alone.

Except when I finally make it out of the bedroom a long time later, Baz is still there on the sofa, exactly where I left him.

I don’t know what it means, but something in me feels just a little bit lighter.

 

\-----

 

I’m awoken that night to the sound of whimpering.

“Baz?” I ask, turning over. He’s thrashing, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and making the worst sounds I’ve ever heard- a kind of whining I didn’t even know he was capable of making.

“Baz!” I say again, grabbing his shoulder.

“Simon!” He yells, sitting straight up.

He’s taking huge gulps of breath, panting. He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face.

“Nightmare?” I ask weakly. Obviously it was a nightmare.

He turns to his side of the bed and flicks the light on.

“Ah-!” I’m about to protest, but then I catch the look on his face. I guess having the light on for a little bit won’t hurt.

“Look- do you mind?” He asks, gesturing towards me. I’m not sure what he means, so I shrug.

He knocks the wind from me as he rolls over on top of me. He’s kind of heavy.

His hair is wet and pressing against my cheek. It’s a little gross. I push it up and away from his face, hoping to get it away from me, and the little sigh he makes into my neck sounds so gratified that I feel obligated to do it again.

This is weird right? People don’t cuddle with their archnemeses.

“This is kind of gay,” I say to the ceiling, and Baz snorts.

“You have no idea,” he says, and I wonder what he means. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” he asks, and I shrug again. I hadn’t really thought about it, but even if it did I wouldn’t want him to know it. It’s never a good idea to show your weaknesses to your enemy. Besides, it’s a little weird but I won’t spend the rest of the night wondering if he’s snuck out to go and feed if he’s literally sleeping on top of me.

(Actually, this is a genius idea. I wonder why I’ve never considered it before. _Keep your enemies close_ and all that.)

I start rubbing his back, because it’s right there under my palm, and it makes him relax against me bit by bit. Slowly his breathing starts evening out, and I feel- good, useful. Like I’ve actually done something to help someone. Like I’ve made a difference.

It feels good. We fall asleep just like that, with his forehead pressed against my cheek and my hand on his back.

 

\-----

 

Apparently, the university of Chicago has a _lot_ of information on runes. The bad news is that they’re all in Swedish/Norwegian/Germanic or whatever- according to Penny and Future Simon anyway.

“Don’t you speak any German?” I make the mistake of asking Baz, who stares at me incredulously before side tracking our conversation to lecture me on language classification and the Germanic languages (apparently, there’s more than one- although in my defense German _is_ a Germanic language) while Penny chimes in with ‘Honestly, Simon!’ every now and then.

“Anyway,” Future Simon cuts Baz off in the middle of a very detailed and possibly unrelated rant about umlauts, “Pen and I are coming back home to work this out. We’ll work better with Baz’s brain- this is really his area of expertise-”

“Compared to you, everything is my area of expertise,” Baz agrees smoothly.

“Shut up Pitch, make yourself useful and start cataloguing the different runic alphabets. Pen thinks there might be a problem with the particular alphabet we were using.”

“It makes sense,” Penny jumps in breathlessly, “many languages constrain native speakers to concepts that are able to be expressed through the language itself. Maybe the runic alphabet we were using didn’t have a translation that really fit what we’re trying to do-”

“Fascinating. Like how the perception of colour can be affected by the person’s native language?” Baz takes a pen out and starts writing things down on a napkin. I don’t even know where the pen came from.

“Exactly. Maybe the Hälsinge runes weren’t numerous enough to fully express-”

“I’ll look into it. I wonder whether the provenance of blood magic would help us out here. If you could look into the earliest recordings of blood magic, maybe we can determine whether a runic alphabet is too old or modern for what we’re trying to do. It might help to narrow down which one would be best to use.”

“But none of this mattered before.” I’m stressed. This sounds like a lot of extra work. “Why can’t we just copy what the book said? It worked to send Future Simon back.”

“I think that’s where we got it wrong. It undid the spell that brought me to the past,” Future Simon says, “but now we’re not trying to undo a summoning spell- by trying to pay a blood tithe on a spell that didn’t need one we weren’t bolstering the magic that brought you back to the future- we pressed the start button on a new spell instead. And we can’t undo it in the same way as we did the first one because this is based on blood magic rather than a summoning. It’s more complicated apparently.”

Baz smiles at the phone. A real smile, too. “A surprisingly good summary Snow.”

“I have many hidden talents.”

“Enough!” Penny interrupts, “Simon, go pack! We’ve booked tickets for tomorrow. We’ll come directly to the flat. Micah couldn’t get the time off work, so he’ll stay here.”

My heart lifts. Penny always knows how to make me feel better. Seeing her will put me to rights.

We make the arrangements. Penny and Future Simon will come here right after they land tomorrow. I don’t know where Penny will be staying but I consider asking to go wherever she does. It hasn’t been uncomfortable being here with Baz, but I fear I’ve gotten _too_ comfortable. Things have been friendly, and it’s been throwing me. He says there’s no war in the future (and his- friendship?- with Future Simon seems to support that, but they could just be lying about it. That or it just hasn’t happened yet, and Baz is biding his time until he can use my trust against me).

“So what do you do? Why do you know so much about runes?” I ask him as we stand side by side in the kitchen and do the washing up from breakfast.

“I don’t really,” he concedes, and I’m surprised. Baz hates admitting to not knowing something. I wonder if this is some kind of character growth that comes with age.

“Future Simon said it was your area of expertise.”

“Because he’s a moron,” he says fondly. “I’m a linguist, actually.”

“Wait, what?”

“A linguist. I study languages.”

“I know what a linguist is! I’m just- surprised, is all.”

“Why?”

I open my mouth but now that I’m thinking about it- I’m not actually sure. He’s always been good with languages. I guess I just always imagined him doing something sinister, like stealing money from the poor, or pushing through oppressive political policies that favour the upper class. Knowing that he spends his days researching and thinking about languages, is well-

“It just- seems kind of nerdy and normal. I always thought you’d be doing something more evil, you know.”

“Well I spend my off-time union busting and harassing the homeless of course,” he says off-handedly, passing me a plate to dry, “but it turns out there isn’t much of a market for evil villains these days.”

I smile without meaning to and bump my hip against his. I smile even harder when he bumps mine right back.

“You know Bunce is going to put us both to work the moment she steps foot on the continent,” he says. “What do you feel like doing with your final day of freedom?”

“There aren’t any flying cars or jetpacks are there?” I ask, just to make sure.

He grins.

“We’re not that far ahead in the future, Snow.”

“Oh well then, what’s the point? Why don’t we just go grab something to eat and sit in one of the parks? I didn’t get a chance to enjoy them while I was chasing you around in the dead of night.”

We end up taking a football with us, which ends up being a massive waste of time because he’s still impossible to beat one-on-one. I manage to steal the ball from him a few times, and I pretend I don’t see the little smirk on his face from the corner of my eye- that way I can act like he didn’t let me do it.

When the sun starts going down he summons a blanket while I go ahead and grab some takeaway curries and samosas from a shop nearby. While I wait for our order I go through the wallet he tossed at me, but there’s nothing in there I don’t already know.

We sit side by side while I eat, and he pretends like he’s not hungry. I nudge one of the takeaway boxes towards him.

“Go on, I’m in a good mood. I promise not to say anything about your teeth.”

He smiles but doesn’t meet my eye.

“I’m just not hungry, Snow. Beating you was barely any effort- no chance to work up an appetite there.”

I throw myself across the blanket at him before I can talk myself out of it.

He’s so fast, he’s turned to me and his arms are up in a defensive stance before I’ve even consciously noticed that I’ve thrown myself at him. He’s wickedly strong too- we haven’t physically fought in awhile,  and I always forget. I’m glad it’s getting dark and there’s almost no one in the park. It’s embarrassingly difficult work to try and pin him down- but I’m eventually successful, only because I jam my thumb into the hollow between his clavicles when I’ve got an opportunity. It’s a cheap shot- but that’s the only way to take Baz down. (Through cheap shots- he doesn’t make mistakes.)

We’re both breathing heavily, and I roll myself off of him.

“I won!” I pant, spreading out on the blanket.

“Only because you cheated,” he argues, poking at my side with a cold finger.

“ _All’s fair in love and war_ ,” I say without magic.

He kicks me in the shin and I laugh before rolling over to grab one of the curries now that I’ve worked up my appetite again.

He’s looking at me so I pretend to be engrossed in my dinner, but the look on his face makes something in me soften.

I almost wish we’d have the time to do this again. Just- being together. No fighting or war or anything. Just two blokes, having dinner in the park. Then out of the corner of my eye I catch Baz trying to fit a whole samosa in his mouth while he thinks I’m distracted, and I find myself wishing it for real.

 

\-----

 

I wake up the next morning with my nose in Baz’s hair. He’s rolled most of the way on top of me, and his cool skin feels good first thing in the morning- almost like having the window open and feeling the breeze. (But it’s somehow better, for reasons I won’t even try and think about.)

He’s not moving but I know he’s awake- he breathes differently when he’s asleep.

“What’s up?” I ask, brushing some of his hair off my face. He makes a little sound of satisfaction somewhere deep in his throat.

“You’re probably looking forward to today,” he says, face buried between my head and his pillow.

"I mean, I’m excited to see Penny. It’s been weird not having her around.” I pause, “also it’ll be nice to spend time with someone who isn’t you. No offense.”

He laughs gently. I didn’t even know he could do that without sounding mean or sarcastic.

“None taken.”

“I should probably pack my things if I’m going to stay with Future Simon tonight.” I know I should, I’ve been in Baz’s hair (literally and metaphorically I think as I brush some more of it aside- also, where does it all come from? He has so much hair- especially for a bloke) for much longer than I thought he’d put up with.

It’s the right thing to give him some space, even if the idea makes my stomach sink. (I’m sure he probably wants to be able to have his girlfriend over again. This is _someone’s_ side of the bed, and I can’t imagine she’s been happy to have been displaced for weeks over me. Which makes me wonder- what kinds of excuses has Baz been making?)

“What things, Snow? You barely own anything at all, not to mention you showed up in the middle of the night in barely appropriate clothing.”

“My clothing was completely appropriate!”

“Those trackies were a crime against fashion, even when they weren’t covered in blood.”

“Were?” I’ve been borrowing clothing from the dresser near my side of the bed. I didn’t even realize I haven’t seen my own clothes since Baz took them after the first day for washing up.

He sniffs, “I burned them, of course. It was a mercy killing.”

“You can’t be serious. You can’t just go around burning my things-”

“You didn’t even notice!”

“Well, unless you’re planning on sending me home starkers-”

“Don’t be a moron, you’ve plenty of clothes here. While not the height of fashion, they’re at least better than the rags you usually choose on your own.”

“At least my rags fit, kind of.” I look down at the trackies I’m wearing now. “Your stuff is too big in the waist for me, I’ve had to spell them.” He raises a brow at me. I get it- I’m confused too, as he’s always been leaner than me (and fitter in general- but then again, he’s fitter than everyone). It’s weird that his trousers don’t fit me properly. (Actually I was more worried about not being able to get into them at all- the extra space I’ve had to spell away is kind of baffling. They fit just right in the legs though- which was useful because I don’t know any spells that would shorten them properly.)

“Oh, Snow.” He runs a cool finger down my cheek and I shiver. Something between us changes immediately and completely. “You absolute imbecile.”

Usually, we’d fight about something like that. But the way he says it- soft, breathy- it does something to me. Makes something warm and thick that I don’t understand twist around my gut.

I catch his eye and I know we’re on the edge of- _something._ I don’t know what, just that there’s a decision to make, right now. My breathing speeds up. My heart is about to beat right out of my chest. It’s the same feeling I get right before a fight, and Baz has never once backed down.

His ringtone breaks the tension between us by wailing. It’s too shrill and too loud for first thing in the morning.

“What?” he hisses, glaring at me like I’m the problem.

“Are you still in bed? Why aren’t you up?” I recognize the voice. It’s Future Simon. “Have you gotten my texts? We’ve just landed, Premal is going to pick us up.”

“I could have done that.”

“Yes, you could’ve if you’d been answering your texts, you wanker.”

“You should have called instead,” he says petulantly. “You know I don’t check my phone during a lie-in.”

“Well it’s your own fault. Get up. I’m famished, so you’d better have something waiting for me in an hour- Penny says she just wants tea but I’m sure she’s lying.”

“See you soon.”

He sighs and lets himself sink back into the mattress. I poke at his hip.

“I’m famished too.” I tell him.

We waste another ten minutes of our last hour of peace lying right there, laughing.

 

\-----

 

Baz somehow bullies me into being the one to start the morning fry-up while he locks himself in the washroom to do some kind of dark magic to his hair.

He also tries on two or three shirts before picking one. He looked put out when I’d stuck my head into the bedroom to tell him that they all looked the same. (They did. He could have just as well chosen any bloody one and then come to take over the cooking. I like eating, but I don’t like cooking- it takes away from time I could be spending eating.)

He keeps checking the clock. I’m almost offended that he’s suddenly so eager to get rid of me. I make a mental note to pack my things as slowly as humanly possible just to annoy him.

I’m waiting for a knock, which is why I’m surprised when Future Simon and Penny just come right in. (Seems kind of rude, actually.) I wave from where I’m stuck in front of the stove, and Future Simon drops his bags before heading over. I figure he’s coming over to make sure I’m alright, but he makes a beeline for Baz, who is grinning from where he’s pretending to be doing the crossword. (He isn’t. He’s only just finished making himself presentable to whatever his standards are. Forty seconds ago, he hadn’t even been in the kitchen- he’d still been whinging about his hair to himself in front of the mirror in the loo.)

“Long time no see, Snow.”

Future Simon barely waits until he’s within arms reach before he grabs him. And then they’re kissing. I have no idea what is happening. I want to look away, but Future Simon is glaring at me over Baz’s shoulder while he does it. I finally gaze helplessly at Penny, but she’s busying herself with starting the kettle. (I guess she really did just want her tea.)

Oh Merlin.

“Enough, Snow.” Baz pushes Future Simon away, who frowns at me before heading towards the loo.

I think I’m in shock. My heart’s racing like I’m the one who’s been caught snogging. Baz finally comes over to take the spatula from me and clears his throat.

Neither of us says anything. Penny is still rummaging through the cabinets for mugs.

The silence is awkward, and I need it to stop.

“So, honestly the snogging was kind of weird for me,” I tell him, sounding hoarse.

“Don’t be ridiculous Snow, you weren’t even a participant.” He stops for a moment. “Technically.”

More silence. I want to ask a lot of things. Things I hadn’t even thought of before this very moment. I start with the first one.

“How long have I been gay?”

“I’m not sure that you are.” This answer only confuses me more.

“And you?”

“Definitely always been gay.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Yeah.”

We’re saved from any more awkward conversation by Penny, who finally having started the process of getting her cuppa is now ready to save us from ourselves. Pulling her into my arms feels- good, safe. She still smells the same. I close my eyes and let it anchor me. This is something I know, something good.

“I’m so happy to see you.” I’d be embarrassed to have anyone else hear me like this, but this is Penny. She just smiles, and I know that even if she won’t say it, she’s happy to see me too.

“You’ve let the bacon burn,” she says to me instead, and I laugh and let my cheek rest on the top of her head.

 

\-----

 

None of this makes any sense to me, I think later that night while stretched out on the couch. (The couch is _not_ comfortable. I miss the bed, but that’s a dangerous thought so I push it away.)

Baz is fit, smart, witty. He could pull any bloke. Why bother with a washed up Chosen One? A magicless mage? Baz’s family is obsessed with magic and power- maybe I could understand the appeal if I was still the most powerful mage- but now, without magic?

I’m still trying to riddle it out when the bedroom door opens and Baz sneaks out.

“Budge up, you lump,” he pokes me with one long finger as I shove over to make room for him on the sofa.

“So, you’re properly freaked out right about now.”

“Yeah, just a little.”

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

“When have we ever talked?”

“ _Practice makes perfect_ ,” he says without magic. I guess I do kind of want to talk to him about it.

I try and decide how best to word it. “What is this?”

“Our couch, and unfortunately I’ve just learned that when lying down it’s hideously uncomfortable.”

“Seriously, Baz.”

He shrugs.

“I’ve always fancied you something rotten. Once upon a time we called a truce and got to know each other better. Everything else just kind of- fell into place.”

“And they lived happily ever after?”

“You’re taking the piss, but I won’t deny that I can’t believe how well my life is turning out.”

This doesn’t make any sense. None of it. I mean- maybe in the most twisted of ways I guess it could work. I can’t deny that I know Baz probably better than I know almost anyone. And obviously he’s talented and fit and all that. But he’s always been- like a step beyond. He’s never dated, as far as I know. (And not for lack of options, either. The girls at Watford bloody love him. Even Agatha had been unable to hide her interest from me. This thought would usually make me jealous, but I guess now that I’ve got all this new information- well I’ve been a right berk, haven’t I?)

I have a lot of thoughts. I go with the first one I manage to put into words. “You could probably do better.”

“Of course I could, but I’m revelling in my teenage-like rebellion.” He laughs like it’s a joke. I don’t.

He turns his head to look at me. He’s frowning now.

“Snow-”

“An orphaned, magicless mage,” I clarify. “Your family probably went berserk.”

“Snow, I already told you. It doesn’t matter.”

“It probably matters to your father though.”

“My father? In his own way he just wants me to be happy, he doesn’t care too much about who I bring home.”

This surprises me.

“Have you? Brought me home?”

“Of course. I’m not ashamed of being gay- and I’m not ashamed of you either,” he says gently. “It’s like I already told you- not having your magic- it doesn’t change anything. You’re still brave, and selfless, and good. You’re still all the things I love about you. You’re still you.”

Love.

I heard him say it, but I’m not ready to think about that yet. This entire conversation so far has been an absolute trip.

I sigh, because I still don’t think he really gets it, even if he’s been saying the right things. “But there’s tons of people like that. Ones with magic.”

“And there’s tons of mages who are actually kind, who aren’t vampires, and are able to cope with their feelings without being idiots,” he snarks right back, “but you’re still here.”

He’s got to be talking about Future Simon. Because while I am still here it’s more of a necessity based entirely on the fact that I’m stuck in time. Although I guess if I could choose who to be stuck here with, Baz is surprisingly close to the top of the list these days.

“I still think you’ve got more options than me. Him. Whatever.”

“Good. You’d only be more insufferable if you’d thought I’d chosen you because I had no other options at all.”

“Baz?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t believe you’ve only finally just admitted to being a vampire.”

He shrugs, and I feel the movement against me.

“You knew, and you knew that I knew that you knew. There was no point in ever actually talking about it.”

It’s silent for a second. I think back on the last few months, then on the last couple of weeks- and finally to just this morning. I don’t like thinking, as a general rule, but this is unavoidable. More importantly, it makes something in me just click right into place, like a stuttered gear finally catching.

_Oh._

“Baz?”

“Yeah?”

He barely startles when I roll myself on top of him and press my mouth to his. He’s so cold, but all day I’ve felt like I’m burning up, and pressing myself as close as I can to his coolness brings nothing but a feeling of relief that sinks right into my bones.

And actually, it’s good.

It’s really, really good.

I have no idea if it’s because I’m kissing a boy, or if it’s because I’m kissing Baz. Or maybe I’ve never really known how to kiss at all, and I’m only doing it properly for the first time, here on Baz’s cramped couch.

Then I realize it’s probably good because he’s been snogging me for some unknown amount of time and already knows how I like it.

I lose track of how long we lie there and snog. I can’t bring myself to pull away. Every part of me feels raw, vulnerable- and Baz’s hands on my back feel like the only things holding me together. I can’t let myself think about it too much, or I’ll stop- and I’d hate myself forever if I stopped.

I want to lose myself in him, forget everything but the press of our mouths, of our bodies. I want his mouth to make me forget everything I’m going to lose in the future- what I’m hoping to gain.

He’s hard. I can feel it against my leg. I’ve never once thought about getting off with another bloke before, but I figure I’ve never thought about doing things in advance- it probably won’t help to start now.

I grab his arse and he sighs into my mouth, twining his fingers in my hair. No one’s ever really touched my hair before- I like it. I press my hips against him, roll them indulgently, and he makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat that I chase with my tongue.

I slide one of my hands up the back of his shirt and around to his stomach. I rub small circles against his cool skin as I build up the courage to slide my hand lower-

“This is a terrible idea, Snow.”

I don’t entirely disagree, but it’s kind of offensive for a bloke to say it while you’re literally palming his cock.

“You don’t want to get off?”

“I absolutely want to get off. In fact, I plan on going back to bed and having a wank.”

“So- save yourself some of the effort.”

“Snow, I’m in love with you and you’ve only recently begun not to despise me. This isn’t a good idea for _either_ of us right now. _”_ He pushes my fringe off my forehead. “Besides, I’m quite emotional. I reckon I’ll burst into tears after if you don’t tell me you love me.”

“Get off it.”

“Seriously. I’m secretly a sensitive bloke.”

I start laughing.

“What?” he asks, but he’s grinning too.

“It’s just- in my mind you’ve always been like my second greatest threat after the Humdrum. And now I’m learning that you cry after sex?”

“Not always,” he’s quick to defend himself. “But not infrequently.”

I feel his laugh before I hear it. We laugh some more, pressed together in the dark, and I rest my forehead against his as we shake. When we’re done, we stay there for a moment, sharing the same breath as we collect ourselves again.

Somehow it feels more intimate than when I had my hand down his pants.

He pulls back just enough so I can see his face. The look he gives me makes me want to shrivel up and blow away in the wind. It makes me want to shrink right into my skin. It makes my whole body warm, starting from my gut all the way to the tips of my ears.

“Goodnight Simon,” he pulls me close and whispers it against my cheek.

I hold him back and close my eyes. “Goodnight Baz.”

That warm feeling in me stays, even long after he’s slipped out from under me and crept back into the bedroom.

 

\-----

 

Baz is right, and the next morning I’m barely off the sofa before we’re being put to work. Penny works us so hard she puts Watford’s curriculum to shame. By mid-afternoon the momentum is finally starting to wear off, and we’re allowed to lounge around idly, reading our notes and research at leisure.

“We need to consider how this is going to affect things,” Future Simon says, chewing on the end of a pen. “I don’t think we can send him back without wiping his memory.”

I snort- he would suggest that.

“No one is wiping my memory,” I say, looking at all of them. Baz is staring at Future Simon with a look I don’t recognize, but then his eyes flick over to me. I raise my brows at him- daring him to fight me on this. He looks away.

Penny sighs.

“Simon, you don’t have memories of this happening. We must have wiped your memory if we succeed in sending you back.”

“Maybe not. Maybe it’s because none of this has happened before.”

“That’s not how time travel works,” Future Simon argues.

“Oh I’m sorry, are you some kind of expert now?”

“Well, seeing as I just lived through it I’d say I kind of am. Plus I succeeded in getting back to my time without fucking anything up.”

“Who says when I get back I’ll fuck things up? Now that I know the Humdrum can be defeated I can fill Penny in and we can start looking for other ways of-”

“There is no other way,” Baz says quietly, not looking at me. “He needs your magic. And if you don’t give it to him there are others who would take it from you by force.”

“What do you mean? The old families? You? I’m not even surprised you’re pushing for this- me losing my magic is probably the best thing that could have happened to you,” I say seriously. I immediately wish I hadn’t, but old habits die hard I guess.

I don’t have time to see his expression change before he gets up and just leaves the flat. I’m not even sure he put any shoes on.

Penny mumbles something about tea and heads towards the kitchen. I watch her go and when I look back Future Simon is right in my face, looking about as pissed as I’ve ever seen him.

“You need to stop taking shots at him at every opportunity.” He tells me. “Seriously. I’m not fucking around anymore.”

This confuses me.

“When were you fucking around?”

“I’m serious Simon. Baz deserves better than to have to deal with all your bullshit because you’re confused and angry. I don’t care if it means I’ve got to throw you out.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me. It’s not fair of you to take it all out of him. He cares about you, but I won’t stand back and let you use that as an excuse to hurt him.”

I’m immediately offended and ashamed of myself. He must know that I can’t think of anything to say (nothing that would be useful or helpful anyway. I can think of about a hundred things I could say that would be rude and truthful- but nothing that’s actually worth saying), because he just hums and walks away from me to go help Penny in the kitchen.

 

\-----

 

“You know, I wish just one person here in the future was on my side.” I say to him as he nudges me aside that night to climb onto the sofa with me.

I’d meant to apologize when he’d come back (which had been fairly quickly. I was right, he hadn’t taken his shoes) but Penny had grabbed him right away and put him to work on translating the seemingly endless information on runes she’d brought from Chicago. Future Simon stuck so close to him the rest of the day that I hadn’t dared tried to interfere. I don’t think he’d really kick me out, but I didn’t want to test him.)

(No wonder Baz hadn’t been bothered by me being around all week. At least I give him fucking space to _breathe_. Future Simon hangs off him constantly- it’s actually embarrassing, honestly.)

“Hmmm, poor you,” Baz mutters as he tugs me closer to him.

“You don’t sound sympathetic,” I tell him when I take a time out later so I can breathe properly.

“Because you’re whinging about nothing. I’m always on your side.” He brushes my fringe off my forehead and kisses me there. No one else has ever done that before. It’s- weird. But I like it. It makes me feel… I don’t know, I don’t really have anything to compare it to. It makes me feel something, anyway.

I mean, anything would be better than constantly fighting and being on my guard, but this… I like it for what it is. Not just what it isn’t. I like being here, with Baz. (Although not literally here, as in on the couch. It’s uncomfortable and cramped. Also, every time something creaks I’m terrified that Future Simon is going to come stomping out of the bedroom and catch us snogging. But that’s not something Baz seems to be worried about, so I’m trying not to worry about it either.)

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I tell him, “I didn’t think.”

“You never think, Snow,” he tells me, but he kisses me again anyway.

“It’s just a pretty big change. I’m not used to the idea that you’re not going to take me down or bite me or something.”

“I’ve never wanted to kill you. Not seriously, anyway.”

This is such a weird thing to hear. I mean, I guess I believe it. (Kind of. I mean he wouldn’t be able to snog me if he killed me first, and he seems to like that enough anyway. Which is a lucky thing because as it turns out, I like that too- the snogging, I mean.)

“Are you going to tell me more about how we get together?”

I’ve been thinking of little else all day. Baz is usually on my mind, but this is a very very different context. I know he said we call a truce, and it somehow leads to this, but I’ll admit having a few more details might put me more at ease. I’m not saying that he’s somehow put me in his thrall, but I can’t a hundred percent rule that out yet.

“No,” he rolls on top of me and noses at my neck. “I’m going to let you figure it out for yourself.”

 

\-----

 

The next day Penny drives Baz’s car to the library and brings me along. We spend the day flipping through books on runic alphabets despite my protests that this is Baz’s area of expertise. (“It’s not, Simon. Do you even know what Baz does for a living?” Penny asks me. I tell her of course I know- he’s an unemployed linguist. “Exactly,” she says, jabbing me in the chest with her finger. “Unemployed. The only thing Basil knows how to do is draw money from his trust fund and act like he’s sulking about it.” I ask her what his next contract is for- she tells me to stop asking so many questions and to start reading.)

We don’t learn much we don’t already know. Penny decides this is because the runes aren’t the problem- the blood magic is. (I think the runes are a problem.)

I tell her I want to do some sight seeing while I’m in London and eventually she gives in and takes me to a movie and to dinner. It’s fun, but she still doesn’t tell me much I don’t already know. (Although I do learn what Future Simon’s job is- he’s a social worker. This is surprising on a lot of levels, especially when I consider the fact that he’s not comforting in the slightest. When I point this out to Penny she rolls her eyes and tells me that she’s already heard it from him, and she doesn’t have time to deal with our insecurities. I don’t know what she means exactly, but I get the idea.)

Penny drops me off with the car and then takes the tube back to her parents’ later that evening. It makes me wish I knew how to drive- I should have bullied Baz into teaching me over the past few weeks. I hadn’t even thought of it.

The afternoon together was… nice. Different than when my Penny and I hang out, but it felt good to have her near anyway. It makes me feel more like myself. It’s been easy to kind of get lost in everything that has been going on. Spending time with Penny again makes me feel grounded, makes me think about getting back home.

I let myself into the flat with the keys I’d taken from Baz earlier. It’s quiet, and all the lights are off. I check the clock. It’s far too early for anyone to bed in bed- they must have gone out. (Maybe Baz needed to hunt, and Simon went with him? I wouldn’t be surprised- he can’t seem to leave him alone.)

I’m about to go grab a fresh pair of trackies for bed when I hear it. (At least I’ve solved the mystery of the ill-fitting clothing. The trackies fit in the legs because they’re Future Simon’s. They don’t fit in the waist because he’s put on weight since leaving school. I think he’s gotten a bit fat to be honest, but every time I even hint at it, Baz is quick to defend him. Too quick, actually).

I jump and feel myself flush from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I should leave, grab a book and pretend like I’m still out with Penny.

Instead I do the exact opposite of that and creep closer to the bedroom door. It’s been left slightly ajar. (It should be closed. And locked. And- oh I don’t know, but don’t people usually leave like a sock on the handle or something? This isn’t something Baz and I had ever had to navigate, but I’ve seen it done in films.)

I shouldn’t look, but I’m kind of curious.

At first, I have no idea what I’m looking at. Then-

 _Well_ , I think to myself, _now you know how two blokes have sex_.

I might have never had sex before, but there’s no mistaking what I’m seeing. Or the sounds I’m hearing. (Honestly, they’re kind of embarrassing. Or the sounds Future Simon is making, anyway. Baz just sounds like- like _sex,_ actually. The sound of his voice makes my guts twist in the same way being pressed against him does.)

I don’t really want to look away, but I do because the whole thing is kind of confusing for me. I feel like maybe I should be jealous, but that doesn’t make sense because I’m the intruder in this whole situation.

I’ve never really thought about Baz having sex before. Like maybe once or twice, but abstractly. Like it’s something he probably does because most people do it. But, even since we’ve been doing- whatever we’re doing- I’ve never really let myself think about it in any detail. (I wonder how often they do it. Whether it’s always like that. How it feels.)

Now, I drag myself back to the sofa and I can’t think of anything else.

I’m hard. I want to get myself off, but it seems kind of weird to do that while thinking about the bloke getting railed in the next room. I wonder if he’s thinking about me while they do it. I mean he’s obviously thinking about Future Simon, but other than that.

The sounds are pretty faint now, but I can still hear them. I decide it can’t hurt to just- see if I can get myself started, maybe.

But it doesn’t work. Too confusing, probably.

I figure maybe I’ll try again when Baz sneaks out to come and see me. I can’t imagine it’ll be difficult after we’re pressed together here, breathing the same air.

But although the bedroom door stays cracked all night, I spend the night on the couch alone.

 

\-----

 

I’m shaken awake the next morning criminally early, even by my standards.

Penny smiles at me.

“We’re going to go and look through my family’s library for anything involving blood magic.”

“That seems like something we’d easily find at Baz’s family home,” I yawn. She laughs.

“Obviously, but he’s still asleep and I’d rather not have to drive all the way there if we don’t need to.” She rearranges my blanket. “We’ll probably stay over for lunch with my family.”

I smile and close my eyes. “Have fun.”

I pretend to fall back asleep while she whispers to Future Simon. Then I hear the jingle of keys and the door close behind them.

I count to fifty before I get up and head to the bedroom.

 

\-----

 

I was right, snogging in a bed is much more enjoyable than doing it on a cramped couch. I think back on the last few weeks and feel like we’ve wasted a lot of time.

I peel my sleeping shirt off, then his. I don’t have worry about getting caught this morning.

“You’re especially enthusiastic today.” He doesn’t sound like he’s complaining one bit.

“This is sexier than researching blood magic.” I explain, licking my way down his neck.

“Blood magic can be plenty sexy. All it takes is some applied research.”

“D’you have much experience with that?” I ask, sliding my hands into his trousers. This time he doesn’t stop me.

“I’ve enough.” Then he presses up and I groan as I feel him hard against me.

“Fuck, I have a confession to make.” I pull back a little so I can pant into the wet space between his neck and shoulder. Then I decide I shouldn’t waste any opportunities and I lick at the skin there, tasting salt.

He makes a pretty little sound beneath me, so I obviously have no choice but to do it again.

What was I saying?

“I saw the two of you- last night.” I heard it too, but I’m keeping that information to myself.

“Oh,” he says, hands stilling in my hair.

“I- uh. I liked it.” I stumble. “I mean it kind of freaked me out- but then I guess just seeing you, seeing how it must have felt. That- uh. That made it better to think about. For me.”

He pauses. Then laughs.

“You would. You ridiculous-” but I cut him off before he can finish.

“Is it always like that?”

“Yes. No. What does that even mean, Snow?”

“I don’t know. Does it hurt?”

“Not if you do it properly, you absolute imbecile.”

“Oh.”

He laughs again and pulls me back into him. I rut into his thigh a little because it’s right there, and he groans into my mouth, sliding his hands back into my hair. I like it. I think about what I saw last night and slide my hands deeper into his trousers, right into his pants so I can grab at his arse.

It’s now or never, I guess.

“Um, so I was thinking. I don’t know. I’d like to try that. Some of it, at least. With you.” He’s staring.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? D’you wanna shower and have breakfast first?”

“You’re an idiot. And _seventeen_. One of us needs to make the adult decision here.”

“But I thought- you know. It’s me.” I say feebly.

“Simon.” He kisses at my neck, but my ears are still burning a little from the embarrassment of being rejected. “You’re leaving soon anyway. Trust me.”

I make a sound of discontent against his mouth. This time I wait for him to press against me first. It doesn’t take long until we’ve worked ourselves back up.

“I need a wank,” he says, licking at my jaw. And the thought of that- well, I could probably use one too.

“Go,” I say, peeling myself away and tugging his bedside drawer open. _Bingo._ I squirt a bunch of lube into my palm before tossing the bottle at him. “You can have the shower, I know how much you like getting off in there.”

“Excuse you, I’ve always been very discreet.”

I laugh, and take one more look at him- the way the muscles in his back flex as he moves, the bulge in his pyjama bottoms…

As it turns out it’s not so difficult this morning to get off while thinking about the bloke in the next room.

 

\-----

 

I fall asleep, after. When I get up I go looking for food.

Baz and Penny are at the kitchen counter. They’re both surrounded by books and notes and honestly look quite at home.

“Hey!” Penny says brightly when she notices I’m up. “We’ve made good progress with the runes and finding more specific translations. We’re pretty certain we can send you back in a few days at the full moon.”

“Why does it have to be at the full moon?” I ask, heading over.

“The aesthetic,” Baz replies seriously.

I smile and kiss him since Future Simon seems to be gone for once. Penny frowns at both of us but doesn’t say anything. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it in front of her- maybe she’s worried that we’ve started an affair or something. (Actually, I hope she doesn’t tell Future Simon. I’m fairly certain he knows _something_ is going on, but I’d rather not piss him off too badly.)

“So, it wasn’t the blood magic?” I ask, flipping through some of Baz’s notes. His handwriting is perfect- it looks like a font.

“It was probably a combination of things,” Penny confirms. “Although, I don’t think the runes were mistranslated _that_ badly. There must have been another trigger than sent you here.”

“Probably something you were thinking about during the tithe.” Baz explains at my blank look. “Blood magic is trickier than just using your words. It’s less reliable. Has more to do with desire than with actual intention.”

Penny clucks her tongue.

“There’s a reason no sane magician would rely on blood magic. Too finicky. It’s not like regular magic, which is like using a resource that already exists everywhere. Blood magic is about giving up something you _need_ for something you _want_.”

Baz frowns. “There are some very romantic stories-”

“They’re all extremely morbid. If that’s your idea of romance Pitch, then you’re more fucked up than I give you credit for.”

They both laugh, and Penny taps at his knuckles with her pen.

“Since when do you guys get along?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Basil. I like him more than I like you now.” She pokes my hip to let me know she’s kidding. Or at least I think she is.

“Bunce means that she’s finally allowed to acknowledge what everyone else already knows now that she doesn’t have to worry I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“I don’t know- I’m still a little worried.”

I watch him laugh. He’s so different than the Baz I know. But, he’s much the same. Just- softer, without all the sharp edges I never knew how to avoid. Now he’s just- well there doesn’t seem to be anything about him for me to hurt myself on anymore.

(Things don’t happen for a reason. They just kind of happen- and then something else reacts the way it does, and it all goes from there. But maybe there was a reason I’m here, now.)

Penny finally notices how I’ve been eyeing the fridge and takes pity on me, going to grab some stuff to make sandwiches. I could have done it myself, but it doesn’t feel right to go rooting through a fridge that’s not mine. (Technically.)

Future Simon comes home, looking surprised that he runs into all of us in the kitchen immediately.

“What’s that?” Penny asks, gesturing to the books in his arms.

“Nothing,” he says sketchily, and then disappears to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Baz keeps an eye on the door until he comes out a couple minutes later, making a beeline for the cold cuts.

“So what does this mean? For getting back?” I ask them later, after a couple of sandwiches. Baz has been watching me eat, not even hiding the look of disgust on his face. (I wish he’d eat in front of me now. I know he’s a vampire- he’s admitted to it. He doesn’t need to hide his teeth anymore. Unless maybe he’s hiding them from Penny?)

“It means we’re going to do our best. And it’s probably going to work.”

“What about- all this? The future?”

Baz shrugs.

“It’s up to you, really. It’s your life, after all.”

He sounds as sincere as I’ve ever heard him. I watch Future Simon frown from where he’s leaning against the kitchen table but he doesn’t say anything, avoiding eye contact.

I don’t trust him.

Later, when everyone is busy fighting over where we’re going to order takeaway from, I sneak into the bedroom. I want to find those books Future Simon came home with.

_If I had a secret, where would I hide it?_

I’m worked up, but I still manage to cast **you’re getting warmer.** Then I spend the next few minutes creeping around the bedroom trying to decide which direction is warmest. Fuck me, I’m always hot. The whole room just feels hot no matter which direction I go.

“What are you doing?” Future Simon opens the door just as I’m halfway under his dresser. It’s hot even down here.

“I’m looking for a pair of trackies.” I tell him, because it’s the first thing I think of.

“Try the drawers,” he deadpans.

“Good thinking.” I pretend not to notice that he’s still there in the doorway as I pretend to be looking over my options before swapping the pair I’m already wearing for a nearly identical one. “I think these ones look nicer,” I tell him seriously as I get my wand out to spell them to the right size.

He doesn’t say anything.

In fact, he doesn’t say anything until I’ve scrambled out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen, where he finally declares that he wants pizza, once and for all.

He’s definitely hiding something.

**\-----**

I learn that the linen closet has been spelled to be bigger on the inside when going to look for a new towel before bed. Immediately I decide to put it to good use.

It doesn’t take long until I hear faint footsteps outside. Baz looks surprised when I burst through the door and pull him inside.

The surprised look stays for a second, then-

“Cozy.” He smirks and pulls me closer. He tastes like tomato sauce, but he’d sat through dinner without eating anything. (As usual.)

I want to watch him eat.

Wait.

“No!” I shove him off me and frown. He leans back against the wall and raises an eyebrow at me. I guess maybe I should have thought of pulling him in here for a snog, but there are suddenly more pressing things on my mind. “Future Simon, I think he’s plotting something.”

“Until a week ago you were convinced I was the one plotting.”

“Well- yes. But this is serious! He wants to wipe my memory! He’s said so. Where’s he been going during the day? To work? Where did all those books come from? He hid them! In the bedroom- I couldn’t find anything when I went looking.”

Baz looks at me for a moment, tapping his lip with a long finger.

“I’ll be right back,” he says before slipping out of the closet. I have no idea where he’s going (to tell Future Simon? No- Baz cares about me, he wouldn’t do that. To look for the books? Maybe- they were suspicious. All I’ve seen Future Simon read are graphic novels and the occasional paperback, which is still more than I read if we don’t count stuff for school. All those books were _old_ , they were definitely _not_ his usual reading material.)

I jump when he slips back into the closet with me. He’s brought something with him- maybe he’s managed to find one of the books.

I slap his hands away as he places the tin foil hat on my head.

“Stop that you wanker! I’m serious.”

“Me too. Snow doesn’t have any magic left in him, but if that doesn’t stop him then he won’t be able to fry your brain with this protecting you.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss at him. “Why do you think he’s been leaving us alone all week? Probably because he figures we’ll be distracted, and he can plan something against us when we’re not paying attention!”

“Have you ever considered becoming villainous? Because you’re surprisingly good at making this stuff up as you go along.” He drags a finger down the side of my neck and I frown so hard I get a cramp. I grab his finger and squeeze- but he doesn’t flinch.

“This is not the time to be playful!” This is not a sentence I’d ever have imagined saying to Baz in any context. The future is a wild place. He sighs.

“Snow, look. He isn’t planning anything. He doesn’t have magic- he can’t do anything to hurt you, and he wouldn’t. We’re all just on edge about the possibility of messing with time. The Coven is renowned for passing through useless decrees, but this is one of them that makes sense. It is generally bad form to mess with something as fundamental as time.”

“Hey, I like the Coven’s decrees! They’re inclusive and progressive.”

“I know you do, love.”

My stomach does something kind of funny. It’s not unpleasant.

“But he’s been spending a lot of time away from the flat-”

“Yeah,” Baz says, tips of his ears turning the faintest shade of pink. “He’s been giving us some space because he’s a little jealous.”

“He’s jealous? Why didn’t he just say something.”

“He’s embarrassed about it. Besides he doesn’t want to look like a hypocrite-”

He stops and coughs.

“Why would that make him a hypocrite? It’s probably normal to be jealous when your boyfriend spends all his time snogging someone else.”

“We hardly spend all our time snogging, Snow.”

I stick my chin out at him.

“Enough, then.” Then I stop to actually think about what he’s said. “Wait- if he’s worried about being a hypocrite…”

I give him the side eye, but he doesn’t say anything. Just raises his eyebrows at me.

Oh Merlin.

“Why am I the last person to know everything?” He starts laughing. I can’t believe it. They better not have snogged in my bed- I haven’t changed the sheets in ages. “How did that even happen?”

“I don’t know, my memory was wiped.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t kill him.”

"Of course not, don’t be a numpty. I haven’t felt the need to act on my homicidal impulses towards you in a long time.”

“Does that mean- did you fancy me during school?”

He smiles a little self-deprecatingly.

“I’ve fancied you practically since we met. But yes, I worked it out while we were in school.”

“Oh.”

I think about Baz, back at Watford. The way we go between avoidance and being feverishly into each other’s business. But I’ve never seen him look at me with anything other than annoyance. Or sadistic pleasure I guess, when I do something stupid like run into a glass door. (It doesn’t happen often. Less than three times a year.)

Then I think about the last few months. Working together to find a way to get rid of Future Simon. (Although he wasn’t _really_ working with me on that. And I guess now I know why. Why didn’t he just say something? Like ‘hey, mate, I’m snogging your future self so maybe find a way to send him back on your own because I want to keep doing that.’)

(Actually, this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought. Baz would never call me mate.)

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you hated me? Because you thought, with good reason, that I hated you? I don’t know, there’s lots of reasons.”

And finally, it becomes too hard to be so far apart. Sliding my arms around his neck feels like the most natural thing in the world, the most important.

“I don’t hate you. Not even a little. I trust you,” I breathe.

“I love you, I won’t let you forget it.”

And then we finally put the linen closet to good use.

 

\-----

 

I fidget the whole day. We all do.

We order takeaway but only Future Simon and I really eat it. The other two keep going over their notes, and arguing quietly. When I ask what’s going on they assure me everything is going to go according to plan and they’re only squabbling over technicalities.

I hope they’re right.

Finally, the sun goes down and it starts to get dark. Baz goes and starts grabbing his keys and I look around the flat for anything I want to take back with me. (Baz really had burned the clothes I came here in. I end up wearing my new favourite pair of trackies, and a tshirt that must belong to Baz- although I’ve never seen him wear it. It’s a little snug in the shoulders, but it’s worn and soft and smells like him.)

When I come out of the bedroom I find Future Simon on the sofa in front of the telly, remote in his lap.

“I’m going to stay behind,” Future Simon says when I look at him questioningly.

“What?”

He shrugs.

“You guys don’t really need me there. It’s not like I could really help without magic or anything.”

“Of course you’d be a help,” Baz says to him. “You’re just too lazy to go with us.”

They share a look I don’t understand. But when we finally leave the flat, Future Simon stays on the couch. I don’t bother saying goodbye.

We take Baz’s car. Penny stretches out in the back to nap which means I get to ride next to Baz. The drive to Watford isn’t that long from the city, but even though we’re quiet Baz keeps his hand on my knee the whole ride.

Soon we’re at the gates, but right as I turn around to wake Penny up Baz stops me.

“Wait a minute, Snow.”

I pause.

He leans over the gear shift and takes my face in his hands. I tilt my face up, because I’m hoping for a kiss, but he just runs his thumb over my bottom lip and looks at me.

“Baz-” I whine.

Then all at once he leans down and kisses me. I try to pull him closer to me, trying to deepen the kiss, but he stays just out of reach. I try every trick I know, but he’s more stubborn than I am, and we break apart far too soon. He takes another long look at me, and all of a sudden I know we’re going to kiss again. For real, this time.

Instead-

“Get up, Bunce!” Baz leans over and whacks her in the shoulder, getting out of the car and heading towards the gates without once looking back.

 

\-----

 

Fuck the Wavering Wood.

Everything looks- much the same actually. If I didn’t know I was in the future I’d say everything is exactly the same as it was when Penny and I headed out to perform the tithe a month ago. I lead Penny and Baz towards the clearing we’ve been using for all of this. We head deep into the forest, walking in silence.

I have no idea what they’re thinking about.

All I’m thinking about is the future. How weird it is.

I’m not exactly sure if this is what I want. Well, some of it is (which in itself is a surprise.) The Humdrum is defeated, but at what cost? I still don’t understand why I was the only one who had to give anything up. To make sacrifices. More importantly, what if this isn’t the best version of the future that we could get?

The footsteps behind me stop, and I turn around to ask Baz a question. (I have a lot of them.)

He’s staring at me, face pale in the moonlight.

His wand is out.

Immediately I feel my magic rise in defense. I’m honestly surprised- although I shouldn’t be. This is Baz, after all. Baz, who has taken care of me for the past month. Baz, who is the only thing I have here in this dystopian future. Baz, who pressed me against the stack of clean towels in his linen closet and snogged me until my lips were bruised.

Baz, who has pulled his wand out behind my back in the middle of the fucking forest.

“I’m sorry, Simon.” His voice cracks over the words. I summon the Sword of Mages and get into my fighting stance. I don’t bother with my wand, I can feel my magic hot and volatile under my skin- I’m not going down without a fight.

Penny is frozen a little further back from Baz. She’s probably as shocked as I am- maybe even more. They actually seemed like they were friends in the future. He’s betraying her just as much as he is me right now.

“Put your wand down, Baz,” I say it quietly, but I know he can hear me. He shakes his head.

“Simon- you don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly. I should have known better than to trust you- you’ve just been bidding your time until you found a way to take me down for good, and now-”

“Simon, listen to me-”

“No. I don’t want to give up my memories. I want to find a way of fighting the Humdrum that leaves me with my magic- that doesn’t leave me with nothing.”

“You don’t have nothing, you have…”

I don’t even guess at what he’s going to say. (‘Me’. I know he was going to say ‘me.’ Like giving up my magic should be enough if we have each other in the future- which is easy for _him_ to say because he sill has his magic. And his memories, or most of them anyway.)

“Baz, put your wand down.” I tell him again. I don’t want to fight him, but I might not have a choice. His wand arm shakes a little, and then-

His arm drops, almost imperceptibly. I’ve never seen Baz back down from a fight before, but he is. This is Baz giving in.

“ **Forgive and forget! Lights out!** ”

“Baz!” I shout, running towards him, but he’s already crumpled to the ground. He was lowering his wand, but maybe Penny didn’t see-

“Honestly, he’s too soft for his own good.”

I turn to look at her from where I’m crouched over Baz. Her ring is still glowing.

“He was lowering his wand,” I tell her. She just stands there. “Penny,” I say when I finally start to realize, “why is your ring still out?”

She sighs.

“I’m sorry Simon, I really am.” She looks it, too. “But if Baz can’t do it, then I have to.”

“Penny, please.” My heart feels like it’s breaking.

“I’m really sorry, but we all agreed that it’s for the best. It’s not just about defeating the Humdrum either, it’s about keeping you safe.”

“Then tell me! No secrets, remember? How can I know who to fight if you won’t tell me who’s dangerous?”

“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you. I watched it, I watched you. So did Baz. You wouldn’t believe it until the very end.”

“I promise. I promise to believe you,” my voice cracks a little. “You’re the only person left that I trust.”

She sighs again.

“I know,” she says, “you don’t need to agree with me, but I need you to trust me right now. **Sweet dreams!** ”

I don’t even have time to react before I’m out.

 

\-----

 

I wake up with a splitting headache. It’s so bad I’m tempted to ask Penny to shrink it.

I sit up, confused. I’m in bed. Penny is sitting on Baz’s bed, staring at me. Baz is across the room, leaning on the edge of his desk.

“Penny, you shouldn’t be in here,” I say immediately. I don’t want Baz to turn her in.

She starts crying and throws herself on top of me. I pat her back awkwardly until I see that my hands are bleeding.

That explains Baz’s pinched look. This must be driving him mental.

I look directly at him so he knows I know how much this is bothering him. He sneers.

“Pen, don’t cry. Do you mind-?” I ask, pulling back and showing her my bloody palms.

Baz beats her to it. “ **On the mend! Out, out damned spot!** ”

I feel better already.

“What’s going on?” I ask, “I don’t remember- the last thing I remember is deciding to work on my political science essay-”

Baz looks very interested in this. I try to look at Penny, but she buries her face in my shoulder and won’t look me in the eye. It’s unlike her.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Baz says slowly, “but it sounds like you’re having memory problems.”

I nod. It had been early afternoon when I thought about starting the essay. Now it’s the middle of the night by the looks of it.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Bunce?” Baz asks quietly. Penny sobs again into my shoulder. Things are very, very weird. “You’ve been gone for a month,” Baz says, “just up and disappeared in the middle of the night. Everyone said you were off on a secret mission to fight the Humdrum- but I saw you sneak out into the forest with Bunce before disappearing. Now a month later I catch Bunce trying to sneak you into bed in the middle of the night, bloody and unconscious.”

I’m so offended on Penny’s behalf I can’t think of anything to say, so I just ignore him.

“Do you mind? We kind of want to be alone right now.” He sneers, and for a second I think he’s about to tell me off, but then he leaves, slamming the door behind him. He’s probably just woken up half of Mummers.

“What’s his problem?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, but Penny keeps crying. “Pen, what’s wrong? Don’t cry.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls a note out. It’s smudged so much it’s illegible- then I realize that it’s only illegible to me because it’s written in Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish.

“No secrets,” she chokes out.

“Pen, I can’t read this,” I tell her.

“The last thing you remember- is it really trying to write our political science essay? That was near the start of term.”

Oh shit.

“Why? When is it now?”

“Exams start in two weeks.”

I’m fucked, I’m so fucked.

“Oh Merlin, I’m fucked.” I say honestly.

“We can deal with that later. But your memory, is that-”

“Yeah, the last thing I remember is trying to make myself do the essay. I was considering using a spell to motivate myself. Maybe something like _No time like the present_.”

“Don’t ever use that spell. Promise me, Simon.”

It’s a weird request, but I don’t hesitate, “I promise.”

I consider asking why, but it doesn’t matter. I trust Penny. I look down at the note in my hand.

“Does this make sense to you?”

She nods glumly. “Kind of. But I’m not sure I agree with it.”

“What does it say?”

“You had your memory wiped. You learned some stuff about the future- and they thought this was the best way to keep you safe.”

I’m shocked. The future? Who exactly is _they_? Also, while we’re on the subject, what the fuck?

“Time travel magic is illegal, and dangerous. Everyone knows better than even try to mess around with it.”

“Simon- that’s not the point-”

“Penny, do you believe them?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

I let out a breath. “Okay, and do you know who _they_ is? Do you trust them?”

It’s not as quick this time, but she finally says it, so quietly I almost don’t hear her. “Yes.”

“Then that’s all there is to it. I trust you. If you think it’s for the best, then I don’t need to know anything else.”

We’re both quiet as we sit there. I’m doing a terrible job of not thinking about it.

She hugs me more tightly than normal when she gets up to leave.

Baz gives me a look, but he doesn’t say anything when he gets back to the room, smelling of damp and decay. He just heads into the ensuite silently.

I take my wand out and consider my options. I’d trust Penny with anything. With my own life. There’s nothing I can do, except-

“ **Think nothing of it!** ”

And finally I fall asleep to the sound of the shower starting.

 

\-----

 

I don’t flunk exams despite having no memory of most of the semester. My absence is explained away with a flimsy excuse about a mission for the Mage. It probably helps that he’s not been around to refute my story.

Sometimes I think about it more than I want to. ( _Think nothing of it_ isn’t a permanent spell. Or even a memory one. It’s just about shifting your attention for a time. It’s dead useful for distracting yourself after doing something embarrassing for example. Penny swears it’s a necessity for living with siblings- she says she’s walked in on Premal in too many awkward situations over the years. I told her she should probably learn to knock.)

Interestingly, I learn Baz has also had some memory problems this semester. For awhile he would stay up into the night, deep in thought, until he just abandoned trying to figure out the whole thing. I tried to broach the subject with him once (we have that in common now, I thought it might help alleviate some of his anxiety about it) but he’d sneered and refused to talk about it.

Despite that, Baz and I have become- friendly, somehow. All those hours in the library cramming to catch up- he’d been the one to suggest working together to cover more material efficiently. Penny helped us most days, but I learned to prefer it when it was just him and me. He’s a good teacher when he’s not being a dick. Which he still is sometimes, only now it’s in a way that ends with one of us smiling rather than a fight.

I’m not entirely sure how we got here to be honest. It happened rather quickly, but I just haven’t been feeling the same animosity towards him recently. When I’d first noticed my memory was missing he’d still been quick to insult me, but instead of getting me ready for a fight I was just kind of- calm about it.

Once he stopped getting a reaction from me the insults had kind of died down, which meant a lot more silence around the room. I don’t know, I guess all that emptiness made room for something to grow, because I’ve been feeling fonder towards him recently. It hadn’t been difficult to try and fill the silence with words. (Not that it had been easy at first. It was weird to try and ask Baz about his day at first. Over time we had gradually stumbled into real conversations about stuff we’d never discussed before- family, friends, interests. It was almost like building something new on a solid foundation. Something that would last.)

I like it better this way.

We’re celebrating dragging ourselves through exam season, sneaking out of Mummers on the last night of term with a bottle of whiskey (courtesy of Baz). We’d had nowhere to go but the football pitch, and even though I made sure to bring a football, we’re just sitting here now side by side, passing the bottle back and forth.

“This semester was wild,” I say, watching the wind in the trees. We’re facing the Wavering Wood, and it’s been giving me some seriously creepy vibes. I’m glad Baz is here with me. (This is not a statement I’d ever thought I’d say. Which just further proves the point- this semester has been _wild_ ).

“I wish I could agree, but I don’t remember enough to know for sure.”

“Are you still upset about it? About not remembering?”

“I don’t know. I believe Bunce when she says I asked for the memory wipe, but sometimes I feel like- like I’ve forgotten something good.” He laughs a little, “but then I remember I’m talking about my own life here, so it couldn’t have been that good to begin with.”

“Shut up. Everything you do is good.”

“It really isn’t.”

“Sure it is. You’re a genius, you’re talented at, well- _everything_ , and when you’re not being a dick you can be surprisingly good company. I’m glad you don’t remember whatever it was, you don’t need anything else to inflate your ego. Maybe forgetting for one second how great you are at everything was just what you needed.”

He snorts and passes me the bottle. The whiskey burns on the way down, but it warms me from the inside, from my stomach to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I lie down in the grass so I can better see the sky. After a moment of hesitation Baz joins me. I go to nudge the bottle towards him and in a moment of impulsiveness lace our fingers together instead, bottle forgotten on the grass between us. When I squeeze his fingers he doesn’t squeeze back, but he doesn’t pull away either.

“It’s been weird. I trust Penny, and I know she would tell me what I’ve been missing if I asked- but I can’t help but feel- kind of alone in all this.” I take a deep breath, but I can’t bring myself to look over at him. I guess the fact that he hasn’t said something rude is a good sign though. “I’m glad you’re here- with me. That you know what it’s like. That I’m not alone.”

“You’re not alone, Simon.”

I close my eyes and smile. His words ignite something in me. Something I wish he could feel too.

“The best thing- what’s the best thing that could have happened that you could have forgotten?”

He shakes his head when I open my eyes to look over at him. “Too personal. I’m not pissed enough to tell you that.”

I laugh, and squeeze his fingers. This time he squeezes back.

“I’m serious though. I want to give you something good to replace it with- something good you can hold on to rather than focusing on what you don’t remember.”

He’s silent for so long I almost wonder whether he’s fallen asleep on me. Then-

“Honestly, this might be it. This, right now- this is something good I want to remember.”

“Even the dismal company?”

He laughs softly, and I feel the sound in my chest.

“Because of the dismal company, you numpty.”

I turn to my side so I can see him properly. His eyes are closed and he’s smiling, probably because he doesn’t know I’m looking right at him.

“I think we can give you a better memory than this,” I tell him, leaning over and running my hand through his hair. I know he can sense my heart rate quickening, but I ignore it, and hope he does too. He opens an eye and looks at me, confused, and I don’t let myself think before-

He stiffens for a moment when I lean forward to press our mouths together. I’m worried that I’ve read this wrong, and am about to get punched- but then he’s pulling me closer by our joined hands and running his thumb across my knuckles.

It’s a little awkward, and he’s cold, but the whiskey has made me warm and soft. He makes a noise somewhere deep in his throat that tugs on something in my chest, and I press as close to him as I can, determined to make this a kiss we’ll both remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with it while chapter 2 was written from scratch at the slowest pace possible. There's a mini interlude that takes place between Ch 1 & 2 that I'll clean up and post later this week.
> 
> As always, thanks for checking it out! Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> I can also be found on [tumblr](http://sharkmartini.tumblr.com/).


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